Ode to May
Mother of Hermes! and still youthful Maia!
May I sing to thee
As thou wast hymned on the shores of Baiae?
Or may I woo thee
In earlier Sicilian? Or thy smiles
Seek as they once were sought in Grecian isles
By bards who died content on pleasant sward,
Leaving great verse unto a little clan?
O, give me their old vigour, and unheard
Save of the quiet Primrose, and the span
Of heaven and few ears,
Rounded by thee, my song should die away
Content as theirs,
Rich in the simple worship of a day.
Chicago: John Keats, Ode to May: A Fragment Original Sources, accessed April 26, 2024, http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=MBNELSAR1FNCVLE.
MLA: Keats, John. Ode to May: A Fragment, Original Sources. 26 Apr. 2024. http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=MBNELSAR1FNCVLE.
Harvard: Keats, J, Ode to May: A Fragment. Original Sources, retrieved 26 April 2024, from http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=MBNELSAR1FNCVLE.
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