1816 HOW MANY BARDS GILD THE LAPSES OF TIME! by John Keats How many bards gild the lapses of time! A few of them have ever been the food Of my delighted fancy,- I could brood Over their beauties, earthly, or sublime: And often, when I sit me down to rhyme, These will in throngs before my mind intrude: But no confusion, no disturbance rude Do they occasion; 'tis a pleasing chime. So the unnumber'd sounds that evening store; The songs of birds- the whisp'ring of the leaves- The voice of waters- the great bell that heaves With solemn sound,- and thousand others more, That distance of recognizance bereaves, Make pleasing music, and not wild uproar. THE END .