Uploaded on November 6, 2011
Thou still unravished bride of quietness,
Thou foster child of silence and slow time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these? What maidens loath?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy? …
—John Keats
English Romantic Writers
edited by David Perkins
11.05.2023: I’ve never owned any Wedgewood. Perhaps if I found the right piece, I’d be interested.