John Keats Quotes

Ay, In The Very Temple Of Delight
Veil'd Melancholy Has Her Sovran Shrine,
Though Seen Of None Save Him Whose Strenuous Tongue
Can Burst Joy's Grape Against His Palate Fine;
His Soul Shall Taste The Sadness Of Her Might,
And Be Among Her Cloudy Trophies Hung.

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