Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
Before high-piled books, in charactery,
Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain;
When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love;--then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.
- John Keats
3 comments:
Sigh...
Why sigh?...
Well, just because it is such a tragedy to have someone so talented die so young. Although it can be argued that he wrote keeping his mortality in mind, which did influence to a great extent the quality and direction of his work.
So.. sigh.. :)
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