Explore "Written on the Day that Mr. Leigh Hunt Left Prison" by John Keats on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
What though, for showing truth to flatter'd state, / Kind Hunt was shut in prison, yet has he, / In his immortal spirit, been as free / As the sky-searching lark, and as elate.
Minion of grandeur! think you he did wait?
Think you he nought but prison-walls did see, / Till, so unwilling, thou unturn'dst the key?
Ah, no! far happier, nobler was his fate!
In Spenser's halls he strayed, and bowers fair, / Culling enchanted flowers; and he flew / With daring Milton through the fields of air:
To regions of his own his genius true / Took happy flights. Who shall his fame impair / When thou art dead, and all thy wretched crew?