07.05.2007, 10:59
Shelley and Keats, and their “Reviewer.”
Two heavenly doves I saw, which were indeed
Sweet birds and gentle, - like the immortal pair
That waft the Cyprian chariot through the air, -
And with their songs made music, to exceed
All thought of what rich poesy might be;
At which a crow, perched on a sullen tree,
Dingy and hoarse, made baser by their brightness,
Would fain be judje of melody and whiteness,
And cawed dire sentence on those sweet-throat turtles;
To which his fellow-flock of carrion things
Croaked clamorous assent; but still the wings
Of those pure birds are white amid the myrtles
Of every grove, where cull they nectar’s seed,
Whilst still on cold, dead flesh, those carrion creatures feed.
Two heavenly doves I saw, which were indeed
Sweet birds and gentle, - like the immortal pair
That waft the Cyprian chariot through the air, -
And with their songs made music, to exceed
All thought of what rich poesy might be;
At which a crow, perched on a sullen tree,
Dingy and hoarse, made baser by their brightness,
Would fain be judje of melody and whiteness,
And cawed dire sentence on those sweet-throat turtles;
To which his fellow-flock of carrion things
Croaked clamorous assent; but still the wings
Of those pure birds are white amid the myrtles
Of every grove, where cull they nectar’s seed,
Whilst still on cold, dead flesh, those carrion creatures feed.