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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 . . .
