John Keats
A lover of poems
A poet of lovers
as he loved a lover so sweetly-
his poems explained it so.
Through fire in his breath,
with the knowing that without
a dime or an inch
of health he
couldn't secure
his love by him
for too long
a time-
But still
with the time they had,
they were blessed to shine.
And now beyond his death
his poems of love
will forever fill our chests.
He wrote to his "Fanny":
Bright Star
Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art —
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like Nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors —
No — yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever — or else swoon to death.
