John Keats, Hymn to Apollo

I love this, but I’m not convinced these are the actual lyrics here being sung. Mostly because I can only make out about twenty percent of what she’s saying. What I can hear doesn’t seem to match what’s consistently been given as the lyrics in every search I’ve performed, so…  oh well?  The words, as a poem, are phenomenal in my opinion, and the song alone is worth a listen, whether or not they are a perfect match.  Besides, I could be wrong, and if I am, please do correct me.  And if you happen to have the actual lyrics, please leave them in the comments, if you can.  Thank you, and enjoy!


God of the golden bow,

And of the golden lyre,

And of the golden hair,

And of the golden fire,

Charioteer Of the patient year,

Where—where slept thine ire,

When like a blank idiot I put on thy wreath,

Thy laurel, thy glory,

The light of thy story,

Or was I a worm—too low crawling for death?

O Delphic Apollo!

The Thunderer grasp’d and grasp’d,

The Thunderer frown’d and frown’d;

The eagle’s feathery mane

For wrath became stiffen’d—the sound

Of breeding thunder

Went drowsily under,

Muttering to be unbound.

O why didst thou pity, and beg for a worm?

Why touch thy soft lute

Till the thunder was mute,

Why was I not crush’d—such a pitiful germ?

O Delphic Apollo!

The Pleiades were up,

Watching the silent air;

The seeds and roots in Earth

Were swelling for summer fare;

The Ocean, its neighbour,

Was at his old labour,

When, who—who did dare

To tie for a moment, thy plant round his brow,

And grin and look proudly,

And blaspheme so loudly,

And live for that honour, to stoop to thee now?

O Delphic Apollo!

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