John Keats

6 Jul


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


Thus 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. 

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