To Fanny


    I cry your mercy, pity, love! aye, love!
    Merciful love that tantalizes not,
    One-thoughted, never-wandering, guileless love,
    Unmasked, and being seen, without a blot!
    O! let me have thee whole, all, all, be mine!
    That shape, that fairness, that sweet minor zest
    Of love, your kiss, those hands, those eyes divine,
    That warm, white, lucent, million-pleasured breast, 
    Yourself, your soul, in pity give me all,
    Withhold no atom's atom or I die,
    Or living on, perhaps, your wretched thrall,
    Forget, in the mist of idle misery,
    Life's purposes, the palate of my mind
    Losing its gust, and my ambition blind!


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Return to the John Keats Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; To George Felton Mathew

It ain't what you don't know that gets you into trouble. It's what you know for sure that just ain't so.