Treasure Island

John Keats

(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821 / London, England)

Fill For Me A Brimming Bowl


Fill for me a brimming bowl
And in it let me drown my soul:
But put therein some drug, designed
To Banish Women from my mind:
For I want not the stream inspiring
That fills the mind with--fond desiring,
But I want as deep a draught
As e'er from Lethe's wave was quaff'd;
From my despairing heart to charm
The Image of the fairest form
That e'er my reveling eyes beheld,
That e'er my wandering fancy spell'd.
In vain! away I cannot chace
The melting softness of that face,
The beaminess of those bright eyes,
That breast--earth's only Paradise.
My sight will never more be blest;
For all I see has lost its zest:
Nor with delight can I explore,
The Classic page, or Muse's lore.
Had she but known how beat my heart,
And with one smile reliev'd its smart
I should have felt a sweet relief,
I should have felt ``the joy of grief.''
Yet as the Tuscan mid the snow
Of Lapland dreams on sweet Arno,
Even so for ever shall she be
The Halo of my Memory.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003

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  • Sylva Portoian (1/19/2010 3:02:00 AM)

    This was the end of Keat's life in Tuscan (Italy)
    but his poems is stimulating poetic life for us
    and the arriving generations-
    where English Language
    will rise more
    by immortal Internets
    to serenade more galores. (Report) Reply

Read all 1 comments »

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