Happy Insensibility Poem Text English

In a drear-nighted December,

Too happy, happy Tree,

Thy branches ne’er remember

their green felicity;

The north cannot undo them

With a sleety whistle through them,

Nor frozen thawings glue them

From budding at the prime.


In a drear-nighted December,

Too happy, happy Brook,

Thy bubblings ne’er remember

Apollo’s summer look;

But with a sweet forgetting

They stay their crystal fretting,

Never, never petting

About the frozen time.


Ah would ’twere so with many

A gentle girl and boy!

But were there ever any

Writhed not at passe´d joy?

To know the change and feel it,

When there is none to heal it

Nor numbe´d sense to steal it—

Was never said in rhyme.

-John Keats

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