Sonnet: Written In Disgust Of Vulgar Superstition
By John Keats
The church bells toll a melancholy round, Calling the people to some other prayers, Some other gloominess, more dreadful cares, More hearkening to the sermon's horrid sound. Surely the mind of man is closely bound In some black spell; seeing that each one tears Himself from fireside joys, and Lydian airs, And converse high of those with glory crown'd. Still, still they toll, and I should feel a damp, A chill as from a tomb, did I not know That they are dying like an outburnt lamp; That 'tis their sighing, wailing ere they go Into oblivion; that fresh flowers will grow, And many glories of immortal stamp.
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"The church bells toll a melancholy round,..."
This evocative piece by John Keats, titled "Sonnet: Written In Disgust Of Vulgar Superstition", represents a masterful exploration of classic. The lines capture a profound emotional resonance... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...