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<Text id=KeaPoem> <Author>Keats, John</Author> <Title>The Poems of John Keats</Title> <Edition>Jack Stillinger, ed. Cambridge, MA: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1978</Edition> <Date>1816-1820</Date> <note>This text has been poorly edited.</note> <body> <loc><locdoc>KeaPoem27</locdoc><milestone n=27> <div0 type=poem n=1> <l><div0.title>Imitation of Spenser</div0.title></l> <l>Now Morning from her orient chamber came,</l> <l>And her first footsteps touch'd a verdant hill;</l> <l>Crowning its lawny crest with amber flame,</l> <l>Silv'ring the untainted gushes of its rill;</l> <l>Which, pure from mossy beds, did down distill,</l> <l>And after parting beds of simple flowers,</l> <l>By many streams a little lake did fill,</l> <l>Which round its marge reflected woven bowers,</l> <l>And, in its middle space, a sky that never lowers.</l> <l>There the king-fisher saw his plumage bright</l> <l>Vieing with fish of brilliant dye below;</l> <l>Whose silken fins, and golden scales l . . .
