Sonnet: After Dark Vapors Have Oppress'd Our Plains

by John Keats

    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.