To the Ladies who saw me Crowned by John Keats

WHAT is there in the universal Earth
   More lovely than a wreath from the bay tree?
   Haply a halo round the moon–a glee
Circling from three sweet pair of lips in mirth;
And haply you will say the dewy birth
   Of morning roses–ripplings tenderly
   Spread by the halcyon’s breath upon the sea–
But these comparisons are nothing worth.
Then is there nothing in the world so fair?
   The silvery tears of April? Youth of May?
Or June that breathes out life for butterflies?
   No–none of these can from my favourite bear
Away the palm–yet shall it ever pay
   Due reverence to your most sovereign eyes.

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