themonthofapril: Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art —Not in lone splendour hung a
themonthofapril:Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art —Not in lone splendour hung aloft the nightAnd watching, with eternal lids apart,Like Nature’s patient, sleepless Eremite,The moving waters at their priestlike taskOf pure ablution round earth’s human shores,Or gazing on the new soft-fallen maskOf 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 swell and fall,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, whose name was writ in water (1795-1821)(via) -- source link
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