Saturday, June 12, 2010


Bright star, would I were stedfast 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.

John Keats


ecelliam said...

Dear Ms. Purple Cow: I love poetic sounds, and rythem.spacialy when they are well sablished. that one is very beautiful.

Thank you so much for sharing

Farmgirl Paints said...

Love the picture...dreamy. And you are right about Honey. He's spoiled rotten!

Carolina Valdez Miller said...

*Sigh* Keats. Delicious. Such longing, such passion, such sweet desire for something lasting.

Phoenix said...

Now all I need after reading such a beautiful, peaceful poem is a sky filled with steadfast stars.

I suppose I need to get out of LA for that one... ;)

Sandy, Sisters of Season said...

So pretty . .

Ro Magnolia said...

Lovely poem! Such an incredible feeling of peace. :)

Bringing Pretty Back said...