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- 1816
- TO-
- ("TIME'S SEA HATH BEEN FIVE YEARS AT ITS SLOW EBB")
- by John Keats
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- Time's sea hath been five years at its slow ebb,
- Long hours have to and fro let creep the sand,
- Since I was tangled in thy beauty's web,
- And snared by the ungloving of thine hand.
- And yet I never look on midnight sky,
- But I behold thine eyes' well memoried light;
- I cannot look upon the rose's dye,
- But to thy cheek my soul doth take its flight.
- I cannot look on any budding flower,
- But my fond ear, in fancy at thy lips
- And hearkening for a love-sound, doth devour
- Its sweets in the wrong sense:- Thou dost eclipse
- Every delight with sweet remembering,
- And grief unto my darling joys dost bring.
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- THE END
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