Explore "Sonnet: Keen, Fitful Gusts are Whisp'Ring" by John Keats on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Keen, fitful gusts are whisp'ring here and there / Among the bushes half leafless, and dry; / The stars look very cold about the sky, / And I have many miles on foot to fare.
Yet feel I little of the cool bleak air, / Or of the dead leaves rustling drearily, / Or of those silver lamps that burn on high, / Or of the distance from home's pleasant lair:
For I am brimful of the friendliness / That in a little cottage I have found; / Of fair-hair'd Milton's eloquent distress, / And all his love for gentle Lycid drown'd; / Of lovely Laura in her light green dress, / And faithful Petrarch gloriously crown'd.