One of the great loves of my life is John Keats, though I’ve been terribly negligent for some time now. Some poets create mainstream verses, but my Adonais always reminds me that words are the most gentle of touches, most soothing of whispers, and most enticing of experiences.
A thing of beauty is a joy forever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, we are wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth..
The first few lines of Endymion pair mortality and the ethereal beauty of nature that only Keats could see and feel.
And his letters:
I kiss’d your writing over in the hope you had indulg’d me by leaving a trace of honey
So much attention to those tiny details that we often overlook or deem insignificant. The perfect words woven into elegant imagery.
In times like these, that Bright Star always knows what to say.
O blush not so! O blush not so!
Or I shall think you knowing;
And if you smile, the blushing while,
Then maidenheads are going.
There’s a blush for won’t, and a blush for shan’t,
And a blush for having done it;
There’s a blush for thought, and a blush for nought,
And a blush for just begun it.
O sigh not so! O sigh not so!
For it sounds of Eve’s sweet pippin;
By those loosen’d hips, you have tasted the pips,
And fought in an amorous nipping.
Will you play once more, at nice cut-core,
For it only will last our youth out;
And we have the prime of the kissing time,
We have not one sweet tooth out.
There’s a sigh for yes, and a sigh for no,
And a sigh for I can’t bear it!
O what can be done? Shall we stay or run?
O cut the sweet apple and share it!
What can I say? I’m a capital “R” Romantic. I will always feel, see, and think like they did, and cause trouble for myself behaving as they did.