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Poems 1817by John Keats

To G. A. W.

 Nymph of the downward smile, and sidelong glance,   In what diviner moments of the day   Art thou most lovely? When gone far astray Into the labyrinths of sweet utterance? Or when serenely wand'ring in a trance   Of sober thought? Or when starting away,   With careless robe, to meet the morning ray, Thou spar'st the flowers in thy mazy dance? Haply 'tis when thy ruby lips part sweetly,   And so remain, because thou listenest: But thou to please wert nurtured so completely   That I can never tell what mood is best. I shall as soon pronounce which grace more neatly   Trips it before Apollo than the rest.