Saturday Poem

To My Brother George

Many the wonder I have this day seen:
The sun, when he first kist away the tears
that fill'd the eyes of morn; the laurel'd peers
Who from the feathery gold of evening lean;
The ocean with its vastness, its blue green,
Its ships, its rocks, its caves, its hopes, its fears,
Its voice mysterious, which whoso hears
Must think on what will be, and what has been.
E'en now, dear George, while this for you I wrote,
Cynthia is from her silken curtains peeping
So scantly, that it seems her bridal night,
and she her half-discover'd revels keeping.
But what, without the social thought of thee,
Would be the wonders of the sky and sea?

by John Keats