A Thing of Beauty

A thing of Beauty is a joy forever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.

-John Keats, one of the great poets of the English language, died of consumption (tuberculosis) at age 25 (1821). His mother had died of consumption, and he nursed his brother through this wasting lung disease. He was very aware of the beauty of breathing.


At his bequest, the following lines were engraved on his tombstone:
"Here lies one whose name was writ in water."


He felt his life had been insubstantial, he was trying to get out of writing and into a respectable career, until he became an invalid. Yet his words still write their way into the hearts and minds of millions. They are carried on paper enough to lay low great stands of trees -- and now on electrons.


This excerpt is from Hyperion

Comments

[ashokji]

Maniyamithrame
I am ashokan
i would like to join
this group
thanking You
ashokji at Yoga