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[London,] November 20, 1816.

My dear Sir—Last evening wrought me up, and I cannot forbear sending you the following—

Yours unfeignedly,

John Keats.

Removed to 76 Cheapside.

Great spirits now on earth are sojourning; He of the cloud, the cataract, the lake, Who on Helvellyn’s summit, wide awake, Catches his freshness from Archangel’s wing: He of the rose, the violet, the spring, The social smile, the chain for Freedom’s sake: And lo!—whose stedfastness would never take A meaner sound than Raphael’s whispering. And other spirits there are standing apart Upon the forehead of the age to come; These, these will give the world another heart, And other pulses. Hear ye not the hum Of mighty workings in the human mart? Listen awhile ye nations, and be dumb.[7]