Sonnet to a lady seen for a few Momemts at Vauxhall John KeatsTime's sea hath been five years at its slow ebb,Long hours have to and fro let creep the sand,Since I was tangled in thy beauty's web,And snared by the ungloving of thine hand.And yet I never look on midnight sky,But I behold thine eyes' well memory'd light;I cannot look upon the rose's dye,But to thy cheek my soul doth take its