“I HAD a dove and the sweet dove died; And I have thought it died of grieving: O, what could it grieve for? Its feet were tied, With a silken thread of my own hand's weaving; Sweet little red feet!… — Keats Copy Share Image
“I HAD a dove and the sweet dove died; And I have thought it died of grieving: O, what could it grieve for? Its… — Keats Copy Share Image
“Yes, in spite of all, Some shape of beauty moves away the pall From our dark spirits.” — Keats Copy Share Image
