Ah! woe is me! poor silver-wing!
     That I must chant they lady's dirge,
   And death to this fair haunt of spring,
     Of melody, and streams of flowery verge --
   Poor silver-wing! ah! woe is me!
       That I must see
   These blossoms snow upon thy lady's pall!
     Go, pretty page! and in her ear
     Whisper that the hour is near!
     Softly tell her not to fear
   Such calm Favonian burial!
     Go, pretty page! and soothly tell --
     The blossoms hang by a melting spell,
   And fall they must, ere a star wink thrice
       Upon her closed eyes,
   That now in vain are weeping their last tears,
     At sweet life leaving, and these arbours green --
   Rich dowry from the Spirit of the Spheres.
       Alas! poor queen!
 

[Note: This is hardly one of my favorite poems by Keats.

John Keats: The Complete Poems says the singer of this song is probably one of the good fairies in a book by Charles Brown entitled The Fairies' Triumph. For more information, see J. Stillinger's "The Context of Keats' 'Fairy Song'", Keats-Shelley Journal, volume X (1961), pp. 6-8. I may go look this up later and see if it is of any interest...

HOME § TALES AND STORIES § POEMS § DICTIONARY
BALLADS § ART § WEB RESOURCES § WEB RINGS