John Keats
When I have fears that I may cease to be
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.
Sonnet: When I have fears
Sunday, 17 January 2010
Keat’s career as a poet lasted only three and a half years. He lived with his mortality staring him in the face and yet expressed a sense of joy and desire that puts most of us to shame. Perhaps the lasting gift of Romanticism is this passion for life at its most extreme, something the young still have today, I think.
