• Skip to main content
  • Skip to secondary menu
  • Skip to primary sidebar
  • Skip to footer

Poetry Catalog

We honor great poets. We honor great poetry.

  • Home
  • About
  • Contact
  • Submit Your Work
  • Writers
  • Advertising / Subscription

On Receiving A Curious Shell, And A Copy Of Verses, From The Same Ladies, By: John Keats

October 14, 2026 by Editors

pc

Hast thou from the caves of Golconda, a gem
Pure as the ice-drop that froze on the mountain?
Bright as the humming-bird’s green diadem,
When it flutters in sun-beams that shine through a fountain?

Hast thou a goblet for dark sparkling wine?
That goblet right heavy, and massy, and gold?
And splendidly mark’d with the story divine
Of Armida the fair, and Rinaldo the bold?

Hast thou a steed with a mane richly flowing?
Hast thou a sword that thine enemy’s smart is?
Hast thou a trumpet rich melodies blowing?
And wear’st thou the shield of the fam’d Britomartis?

What is it that hangs from thy shoulder, so brave,
Embroidered with many a spring peering flower?
Is it a scarf that thy fair lady gave?
And hastest thou now to that fair lady’s bower?

Ah! courteous Sir Knight, with large joy thou art crown’d;
Full many the glories that brighten thy youth!
I will tell thee my blisses, which richly abound
In magical powers to bless, and to sooth.

On this scroll thou seest written in characters fair
A sun-beamy tale of a wreath, and a chain;
And, warrior, it nurtures the property rare
Of charming my mind from the trammels of pain.

This canopy mark: ’tis the work of a fay;
Beneath its rich shade did King Oberon languish,
When lovely Titania was far, far away,
And cruelly left him to sorrow, and anguish.

There, oft would he bring from his soft sighing lute
Wild strains to which, spell-bound, the nightingales listened;
The wondering spirits of heaven were mute,
And tears ‘mong the dewdrops of morning oft glistened.

In this little dome, all those melodies strange,
Soft, plaintive, and melting, for ever will sigh;
Nor e’er will the notes from their tenderness change;
Nor e’er will the music of Oberon die.

So, when I am in a voluptuous vein,
I pillow my head on the sweets of the rose,
And list to the tale of the wreath, and the chain,
Till its echoes depart; then I sink to repose.

Adieu, valiant Eric! with joy thou art crown’d;
Full many the glories that brighten thy youth,
I too have my blisses, which richly abound
In magical powers, to bless and to sooth.

Read all of John Keats's poems · About John Keats

More by John Keats

  • Hadst Thou Liv'd In Days Of Old
  • To Hope
  • Imitation Of Spenser
  • Woman! When I Behold Thee Flippant, Vain
  • Light Feet, Dark Violet Eyes, And Parted Hair

Write poetry? Submit your poem to Poetry Catalog

Share this:

  • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
  • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
  • Share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit
  • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
  • Share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest

Related

Filed Under: Poems

Get Every Post In Your Inbox 😳

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.
(This is not the newsletter.)

Primary Sidebar

Never Miss A Poem (Newsletter)

Be Social

  • X
  • Facebook
  • Pinterest

Top Posts & Pages

  • Poetry Submission Deadlines November 2026
    Poetry Submission Deadlines November 2026
  • November, By: Emily Dickinson
    November, By: Emily Dickinson
  • The Past, By: Emily Dickinson
    The Past, By: Emily Dickinson
  • On The Power Of Sound, By: William Wordsworth
    On The Power Of Sound, By: William Wordsworth
  • A Bird Is Of All Beings, By: Emily Dickinson
    A Bird Is Of All Beings, By: Emily Dickinson
  • Where to Start with Emily Dickinson
    Where to Start with Emily Dickinson
  • The World Feels Dusty, By: Emily Dickinson
    The World Feels Dusty, By: Emily Dickinson
  • The Wife, By: Emily Dickinson
    The Wife, By: Emily Dickinson
  • Election Day, November, 1884, By: Walt Whitman
    Election Day, November, 1884, By: Walt Whitman
  • What Is The Bells About?
    What Is The Bells About?

Advertising/Subscribing = Loving

Buy Me A Coffee

Footer

Made with ❤ in Lubbock, TX.

Public Domain Poetry

Poetry Catalog Sponsors

Haiku Examples

Search

Copyright © 2026 · Magazine Pro on Genesis Framework · WordPress · Log in