Of late two dainties were before me plac'd <br />Sweet, holy, pure, sacred and innocent, <br />From the ninth sphere to me benignly sent <br />That Gods might know my own particular taste: <br />First the soft Bag-pipe mourn'd with zealous haste, <br />The Stranger next with head on bosom bent <br />Sigh'd; rueful again the piteous Bag-pipe went, <br />Again the Stranger sighings fresh did waste. <br />O Bag-pipe thou didst steal my heart away -- <br />O Stranger thou didst re-assert thy sway -- <br />Again thou Stranger gav'st me fresh alarm -- <br />Alas! I could not choose. Ah! my poor heart <br />Mum chance art thou with both oblig'd to part.<br /><br />John Keats<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-hearing-the-bag-pipe-and-seeing-2/
