John Keats. Ode to a Nightingale part VII

ITF:http://www.ecured.cu/images/f/fd/Keats.jpg

JOHN KEATS

ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE

VII

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!    

No hungry generations tread thee down;  

The voice I hear this passing night was heard   

In ancient days by emperor and clown: 

Perhaps the self-same song that found a path 

Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,  

She stood in tears amid the alien corn;        

The same that ofttimes hath   

Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam  

Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.