Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, ON VISITING THE TOMB OF BURNS, by JOHN KEATS



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ON VISITING THE TOMB OF BURNS, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: The town, the churchyard, and the setting sun
Last Line: Thy face; I sin against thy native skies.
Subject(s): Burns, Robert (1759-1796); Poetry & Poets


The town, the churchyard, and the setting sun,
The clouds, the trees, the rounded hills all seem,
Though beautiful, cold - strange - as in a dream,
I dreamed long ago, now new begun.
The short-liv'd, paly Summer is but won
From Winter's ague, for one hour's gleam;
Though sapphire-warm, their stars do never beam:
All is cold Beauty; pain is never done;
For who has mind to relish, Minos-wise,
The Real of Beauty, free from that dead hue
Sickly imagination and sick pride
Cast wan upon it! Burns! with honour due
I oft have honour'd thee. Great shadow, hide
Thy face; I sin against thy native skies.




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