Treasure Island

Lizette Woodworth Reese

(January 9, 1856 – December 17, 1935 / Waverly)

Keats


An English lad, who, reading in a book,
A ponderous, leathern thing set on his knee,
Saw the broad violet of the Egean Sea
Lap at his feet as it were village brook.
Wide was the east; the gusts of morning shook;
Immortal laughter beat along that shore;
Pan, crouching in the reeds, piped as of yore;
The gods came down and thundered from that book.
He lifted his sad eyes; his London street
Swarmed in the sun, and strove to make him heed;
Boys spun their tops, shouting and fair of cheek:
But, still, that violet lapping at his feet,—
An English lad had he sat down to read;
But he rose up and knew himself a Greek.

Submitted: Saturday, December 17, 2011

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  • Colleen Courtney (5/19/2014 10:31:00 AM)

    I love this great poem! Plays out in the mind as you read. Can see Keats as a young boy dreamy and far off in his musings only to come to back to his London street! Wonderful poem! (Report) Reply

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