"Through the dancing poppies stole A breeze, most softly lulling to my soul."
"Here are sweet peas, on tiptoe for a flight; With wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white, And taper fingers catching at all things, To bind them all about with tiny rings."
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Source: John Keats, Helen Vendler (1990). “Poetry Manuscripts at Harvard”, p.34, Harvard University Press
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