Love
Poetry Home
Bright
Star
John Keats (1795-1821)
Bright star,
would I were steadfast 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
steadfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd
upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To fed for
ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for
ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still
to hear her tender-taken breath,
An so live
ever-or else swoon to death.
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