John Keats

Sonnet. Written In Disgust Of Vulgar Superstition

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. 'In Tom Keats's copy-book this sonnet is headed as above and dated "Sunday Evening, Dec. 24, 1816. " In the Aldine edition it is headed "Written on a Summer Evening. " I give the text from the transcript, which varies in some details from the Aldine text. The latter reads 'toll'd' for 'toll' in line I. , 'To some blind spell' in line 6, 'Fond' for 'And' in line 8, and 'as' for 'ere' in line 12. ~ Poetical Works of John Keats, ed. H. Buxton Forman, Crowell publ. 1895.