                                      1816
                  AFTER DARK VAPOURS HAVE OPPRESS'D OUR PLAINS
                                 by John Keats

        After dark vapours have oppress'd our plains
          For a long dreary season, comes a day
          Born of the gentle South, and clears away
        From the sick heavens all unseemly stains.
        The anxious month, relieved of its pains,
          Takes as a long-lost right the feel of May;
          The eyelids with the passing coolness play
        Like rose leaves with the drip of Summer rains.
        The calmest thoughts come round us; as of leaves
          Budding- fruit ripening in stillness- Autumn suns
        Smiling at eve upon the quiet sheaves-
        Sweet Sappho's cheek- a smiling infant's breath-
          The gradual sand that through an hour-glass runs-
        A woodland rivulet- a Poet's death.


                        THE END
