Set by John Mitchell (1941-) op. 62 (1986), from Three Sonnets of Keats, no. 1.
Text by John Keats (1795-1821)
O SOLITUDE! if I must with thee dwell,
Let it not be among the jumbled heap
Of murky buildings; climb with me the steep,-
Nature's observatory - whence the dell,
Its flowery slopes, its river's crystal swell,
May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep
Among the boughs pavillioned, where the deer's swift leap
Startles the wild bee from the fox-glove bell.
But though I'll gladly trace today these scenes with thee,
Yet the sweet converse of an innocent mind,
Whose words are images of thoughts refined,
Is my soul's pleasure; and it sure must be
Almost the highest bliss of human-kind,
When to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee.
The Beauty of Touch
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