At length burst in the argent revelry,
With plume, tiara, and all rich array,
Numerous as shadows haunting fairily
The brain, new-stuff’d, in youth, with triumphs gay
Of old romance. These let us wish away,
And turn, sole-thoughted, to one lady there,
Whose heart had brooded, all that wintry day,
On love, and wing’d St Agnes’ saintly care,
As she had heard old dames full many times declare.
The Eve of St. Agnes by John Keats – Stanza V.
Preliminary study, at Cork’s Crawford Gallery, by Harry Clarke for his glass work masterpiece based on Keat’s poem.
Full Poem here