I breakfasted with my bff John Keats this morning & found him stunningly modern for his age (early 1800’s) and wildly elder for his age (eternally early 20’s). All & all – quite a charmer.
The Eve of St. Agnes
xxxiiThus whispering, his warm unnerved arm Sank in her pillow. Shaded was her dream By the dusk curtains: — ’twas a midnight charm Impossible to melt as iced stream: The lustrous salvers in the moonlight gleam; Broad golden fringe upon the carpet lies: It seemed he never, never could redeem From such a steadfast spell his lady’s eyes; So mused awhile, entoiled in woofed phantasies.