Through the sad heart of Ruth, when sick for home She stood in tears amid the alien corn; The same that ofttimes… — John Keats Copy Share Image
Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was… — John Keats Copy Share Image
“The same that oft-times hath charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam of perilous seas, in fairy lands forlorn.” — John Keats Copy Share Image
