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Sonnet III. Written On The Day That Mr. Leigh Hunt Left Prison
John Keats 1795 (Moorgate) – 1821 (Rome)
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 stray'd, 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?
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Citation
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"Sonnet III. Written On The Day That Mr. Leigh Hunt Left Prison" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 18 Jan. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/23439/sonnet-iii.-written-on-the-day-that-mr.-leigh-hunt-left-prison>.
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