|John Keats (1795 - 1821)|
In class, I mentioned the English poet, John Keats. The beautiful poem I spoke of is a sonnet:
When I Have Fears That I Might Cease to Be
When I have fears that I may cease to beBefore high piled books, in charact’ry,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 traceTheir shadows, with the magic hand of chance;And when I feel, fair creature of an hour!That I shall never look upon thee more,Of unreflecting love!—then on the shoreOf the wide world I stand alone, and thinkTill Love and Fame to nothingness do sink.