Sonnet: After Dark Vapors Have Oppress'd Our Plains

by John Keats

　　

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After dark vapors 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 came 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.

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