LINES SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN ADDRESSED

TO FANNY BRAWNE

THIS living hand, now warm and capable
Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold
And in the icy silence of the tomb,

So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights
That thou would[st] wish thine own heart dry of blood
So in my veins red life might stream again,
And thou be conscience-calm'd-see here it is—
I hold it towards you.

SONNET

Written on a Blank Page in Shakespeare's Poems, facing "A Lover's Complaint."

BRIGHT star, would I were stedfast as thou artNot 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 moorsNo-yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,

Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast, 10
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.

Lines] These were written in the margin of a page of the holograph manuscript of "The Cap and Bells," and were published in my sixth one-volume edition of Keats's poetry (1898).

Sonnet 1] Bright star! Houghton and Pocket Dante.

7 mask Houghton; masque Shakespeare's Poems and Pocket Dante. 8 moors! Pocket Dante. 9 No! Pocket Dante.

11 fall and swell Houghton: swell and fall Shakespeare's Poems. 14 Half-passionless, and so swoon on to death.

Variant, Houghton.

INDEX OF FIRST LINES

A thing of beauty is a constant joy: [foot-note]
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
After dark vapors have oppress'd our plains
Ah! ken ye what I met the day

Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
Ah! who can e'er forget so fair a being?
Ah! woe is me! poor silver-wing!
All gentle folks who owe a grudge
And what is love? It is a doll dress'd up
Another sword! And what if I could seize.
As from the darkening gloom a silver dove.
As Hermes once took to his feathers light,
As late I rambled in the happy fields,
Asleep! O sleep a little while, white pearl!

Bards of Passion and of Mirth,

Before he went to feed with owls and bats
Blue! 'Tis the life of heaven,-the domain.
Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art-
Brother belov'd if health shall smile again,
Byron! how sweetly sad thy melody! .

26

Can death be sleep, when life is but a dream,
Cat! who hast pass'd thy grand climacteric,
Chief of organic numbers!

Come hither all sweet maidens soberly,

Dear Reynolds! as last night I lay in bed,

Deep in the shady sadness of a vale

Ever let the fancy roam,

Fair Isabel, poor simple Isabel!

Fame, like a wayward Girl, will still be coy

Fanatics have their dreams, wherewith they weave
Fill for me a brimming bowl

Four seasons fill the measure of the year;
Fresh morning gusts have blown away all fear
Full many a dreary hour have I past,

Give me women, wine and snuff

Give me a golden pen, and let me lean

Give me your patience Sister while I frame

Glocester, no more: I will behold that Boulogne:
Glory and loveliness have pass'd away;

Go no further; not a step more; thou art
God of the golden bow,

Good Kosciusko, thy great name alone
Great spirits now on earth are sojourning; .
Grievously are we tantaliz'd, one and all-

Had I a man's fair form, then might my sighs
Hadst thou liv'd in days of old,
Happy, happy glowing fire!

Happy is England! I could be content

Hast thou from the caves of Golconda, a gem
Haydon! forgive me that I cannot speak

He is to weet a melancholy carle :

Hearken, thou craggy ocean pyramid
Hence Burgundy, Claret, and Port,
Here all the summer could I stay,
Highmindedness, a jealousy for good,
How fever'd is the man, who cannot look
How many bards gild the lapses of time!
Hush, hush! tread softly! hush, hush my dear!

I cry your mercy-pity-love!-aye, love! .
I had a dove and the sweet dove died;
I stood tip-toe upon a little hill,

If by dull rhymes our English must be chain'd,

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432

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304

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360

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361

If shame can on a soldier's vein-swoll'n front

In the wide sea there lives a forlorn wretch,
In thy western halls of gold.

130

286

It keeps eternal whisperings around

296

Just at the self-same beat of Time's wide wings.

262

Keen, fitful gusts are whisp'ring here and there.
King of the stormy sea!

Life's sea hath been five times at its slow ebb, [foot-note] 306

Light feet, dark violet eyes, and parted hair;
Lo! I must tell a tale of chivalry;

Many the wonders I this day have seen:
Mortal, that thou may'st understand aright,
Mother of Hermes! and still youthful Maia!
Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold,
Muse of my native land! loftiest Muse!
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My spirit is too weak-mortality.

Nature withheld Cassandra in the skies,
No more advices, no more cautioning:.

No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist
No! those days are gone away,

336

379

247

243

Not Aladdin magian

Now, Ludolph! Now, Auranthe! Daughter fair!.
Now may we lift our bruised vizors up,

331

391

428

290

O Arethusa, peerless nymph! why fear

O blush not so! O blush not so!

O come Georgiana! the rose is full blown,

come my dear Emma! the rose is full blown, [foot-note] 290

O for enough life to support me on

O Goddess! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung.
O golden tongued Romance, with serene lute!

O, my poor Boy! my Son! my Son! my Ludolph!
O Peace! and dost thou with thy presence bless.
O soft embalmer of the still midnight,

O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell,

O sovereign power of love! O grief! O balm!
O that a week could be an age, and we
O that the earth were empty, as when Cain
O thou whose face hath felt the Winter's wind,

O Thou, whose mighty palace roof doth hang
O! were I one of the Olympian twelve,

63

308

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, [foot-note]

354

Of late two dainties were before me plac'd.

330

Oft have you seen a swan superbly frowning,
Oh! how I love, on a fair summer's eve,

30

291

Old Meg she was a Gipsy,

Oh, I am frighten'd with most hateful thoughts!
Oh! what a voice is silent. It was soft

One morn before me were three figures seen,
Over the Hill and over the Dale, .

310

See liv

319

346

318

Pensive they sit, and roll their languid eyes,

437

Physician Nature! let my spirit blood!
Pleasures lie thickest where no pleasures seem

Read me a lesson, Muse, and speak it loud.

St. Agnes' Eve-Ah, bitter chill it was!
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Shed no tear-O shed no tear!

Small, busy flames play through the fresh laid coals,

So, I am safe emerged from these broils!

Son of the old moon-mountains African!

Souls of Poets dead and gone,

Spenser a jealous honourer of thine,
Spirit here that reignest!

Standing aloof in giant ignorance,
Stay, ruby-breasted warbler, stay,

Still very sick my Lord; but now I went
Sweet are the pleasures that to verse belong,

The church bells toll a melancholy round,

The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!
The Gothic looks solemn,

See liii

406

24

291

The town, the churchyard, and the setting sun,
There are who lord it o'er their fellow-men

319

112

There is a charm in footing slow across a silent plain,

326

Though you should build a bark of dead men's bones,

[foot-note]

Thus in alternate uproar and sad peace,

Time's sea hath been five years at its slow ebb,
"Tis the witching hour of night,
To-night I'll have my friar-let me think
To one who has been long in city pent,
To see those eyes I prize above mine own
Two or three Posies

Unfelt, unheard, unseen,
Upon a Sabbath-day it fell ;.

Upon a time, before the faery broods