Poem of the week: In Drear Nighted December by John Keats

‘With a sweet forgetting, / They stay their crystal fretting’ … Photograph: Martin Argles/The Guardian

In Drear Nighted December

In drear nighted December,
Too happy, happy tree,
Thy branches ne’er remember
Their green felicity —
The north cannot undo them
With a sleety whistle through them
Nor frozen thawings glue them
From budding at the prime.