Fill For Me A Brimming Bowl

by


    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.

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Return to the John Keats Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; Fragment: Modern Love

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