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This was written by John Keats, probably in the summer of 1817. His source for the quote in the second stanza, if it is an exact quote, is unknown. The "queen" was almost certainly imaginary.

Unfelt, unheard, unseen

Unfelt, unheard, unseen,
I've left my little queen,
Her languid arms in silver slumber dying:
Ah! through their nestling touch,
Who, who could tell how much
There is for madness--cruel or complying?

Those faery lids how sleek,
Those lips how moist--they speak,
In ripest quiet, shadows of sweet sounds;
Into my fancy's ear
Melting a burden dear,
How "love doth know no fulness nor no bounds."

True tender monitors,
I bend unto your laws:
This sweetest day for dalliance was born;
So, without more ado,
I'll feel my heaven anew,
For all the blushing of the hasty morn.

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