He died in the evening on February 23, 1821 at his friend Severn's home in Rome. He had been slowly dying and was bitterly disappointed each day to find himself still alive, in a world to which he had long said his goodbyes.
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John Keats, in 1814, was a proper surgeon’s apprentice when he was driven out of his mind by provocative young women in muslin so sheer they offered glimpses of breasts that had him rhapsodising.
To a Friend who sent me some Roses
by John Keats
AS late I rambled in the happy fields,
What time the sky-lark shakes the tremulous dew
From his lush clover covert; - when anew
Adventurous knights take up their dinted shields:
I saw the sweetest flower wild nature yields,
A fresh-blown musk-rose; ’twas the first that threw
Its sweets upon the summer: graceful it grew
As is the wand that queen Titania wields.
And, as I feasted on its fragrancy,
I thought the garden-rose it far excell’d:
But when, O Wells! thy roses came to me
My sense with their deliciousness was spell’d:
Soft voices had they, that with tender plea
Whisper’d of peace, and truth, and friendliness unquell’d.
Keats was the first of the romantic poets to go, next was Shelley and two years later was Byron. This left poor Wordsworth who years later wrote:
Fast has brother followed brother,
From sunshine to the sunless land!
Warm regards,
Simone
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ReplyDeleteThose must have been some women.
ReplyDeleteI agree with Christopher! But what a time when the sight of an ankle was tantalizing. Now it's all --- well.
ReplyDeleteI never could resist a tortured soul.
ReplyDeleteA male poet is worth their weight in words. Really, what is more beautiful than finding some old poem by one of these men? Breathtaking.
ReplyDeleteVery interesting post. It is a shame they all died so close together. Wonder what else they would have composed had they lived another 5 or 10 years each.
ReplyDeleteKeats wrote some of the most beautiful poetry the world has seen. Could he have written it, if he wasn't so tortured, I wonder?
ReplyDeleteSo he was tormented by the thought that his work was too much like other men's work? That brings up the question: Can anything written nowadays be an original idea?
ReplyDeleteIf women wore muslin today, inspired lines would flow more freely between the punctuation.
ReplyDeleteIt was a very different time from ours!
ReplyDeleteHow sad.....Now the rest of my night will be sad.
ReplyDeleteI have to agree with K.M. Weiland, would Keats have been able to write such beautiful poetry if he hadn't been so tortured?
ReplyDeleteI love the romantic poets, Shelley, Keats, Byron, Tennyson . . .
This is why i love you Simone!!!!
ReplyDeletelisten to this:
"Darkling I listen; and for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Called him soft names in many a mused rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
In such an ecstasy!
Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain--
To thy high requiem become a sod"
This poetry "Ode to a Nightingale" by John Keats has changed me.
xxoo to you Simone.
I hate that I've caused sadness with my little tribute to keats when all I wanted was to share my love for the dear thing.
ReplyDeleteOh and Lakhsmita this is one my absolute favorites by keats. The man was brilliant and I will always love him and is work. I love that you and I share this.
My love to each of you.
Warm regards,
Simone
"your poems were still there waiting for me to read it "
ReplyDeleteyour poem really tortured me........