Ode

by John Keats

    Bards of Passion and of Mirth,
    Ye have left your souls on earth!
    Have ye souls in heaven too,
    Double-lived in regions new?
    Yes, and those of heaven commune
    With the spheres of sun and moon;
    With the noise of fountains wond’rous,
    And the parle of voices thund’rous;
    With the whisper of heaven’s trees
    And one another, in soft ease
    Seated on Elysian lawns
    Brows’d by none but Dian’s fawns;
    Underneath large blue-bells tented,
    Where the daisies are rose-scented,
    And the rose herself has got
    Perfume which on earth is not;
    Where the nightingale doth sing
    Not a senseless, tranced thing,
    But divine melodious truth;
    Philosophic numbers smooth;
    Tales and golden histories
    Of heaven and its mysteries.

    Thus ye live on high, and then
    On the earth ye live again;
    And the souls ye left behind you
    Teach us, here, the way to find you,
    Where your other souls are joying,
    Never slumber’d, never cloying.
    Here, your earth-born souls still speak
    To mortals, of their little week;
    Of their sorrows and delights;
    Of their passions and their spites;
    Of their glory and their shame;
    What doth strengthen and what maim.
    Thus ye teach us, every day,
    Wisdom, though fled far away.

    Bards of Passion and of Mirth,
    Ye have left your souls on earth!
    Ye have souls in heaven too,
    Double-lived in regions new!