Letters of John Keats to Fanny Brawne: Written in the Years MDCCCXIX and MDCCCXX and Now Given from the Original Manuscripts

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Reeves & Turner, 1878 - Poets, English - 128 pages
 

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Page 118 - Arms and Armour, in Antiquity and the Middle Ages; also a Descriptive Notice of Modern Weapons. Translated from the French of MP LACOMBE, and with a Preface, Notes, and One Additional Chapter on Arms and Armour in England, by CHARLES BOUTELL, MA, Author of "English Heraldry.
Page lxiii - I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days — three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.
Page xxix - It will be the best comment on my sonnet; it will show you that it was written with no Agony but that of ignorance; with no thirst of anything but knowledge when pushed to the point though the first steps to it were through my human passions. They went away, and I wrote with my Mind — and perhaps I must confess a little bit of my heart — Why did I laugh tonight?
Page lxiv - Sad chance of war ! now destitute of aid, Falls undistinguish'd by the victor spade ! Thus far both armies to Belinda yield ; Now to the baron fate inclines the field. His warlike amazon her host invades, Th' imperial consort of the crown of spades.
Page 80 - When you were in the habit of flirting with Brown you would have left off, could your own heart have felt one half of one pang mine did. Brown is a good sort of Man; he did not know he was doing me to death by inches. I feel the effect of every one of those hours in my side now; and for that cause, though he has done me many services, though I know his love and friendship for me, though at this moment I should be without pence were it not for his assistance, I will never see or speak to him until...
Page xxiv - I throw my whole being into Troilus, and repeating those lines, 'I wander, like a lost Soul upon the Stygian Banks staying for waftage,' I melt into the air with a voluptuousness so delicate that I am content to be alone.
Page xvii - I believe tho' she has faults — the same as Charmian and Cleopatra might have had. Yet she is a fine thing speaking in a worldly way : for there are two distinct tempers of mind in which we judge of things — the worldly, theatrical and pantomimical ; and the unearthly, spiritual and ethereal — in the former Buonaparte, Lord Byron and this Charmian hold the first place in our Minds ; in the latter, John Howard, Bishop Hooker rocking his child's cradle, and you my dear Sister are the conquering...
Page xxv - I never was in love — yet the voice and shape of a Woman has haunted me these two days — at such a time, when the relief, the feverous relief of Poetry seems a much less crime. This morning Poetry has conquered — I have relapsed into those abstractions which are my only life — I feel escaped from a new strange and threatening sorrow — and I am thankful for it. There is an awful warmth about my heart like a load of Immortality.
Page 24 - You have absorb'd me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving — I should be exquisitely miserable without the hope of soon seeing you. I should be afraid to separate myself far from you. My sweet Fanny, will your heart never change ? My love, will it ? I have no limit now to my love You[r] note came in just here.
Page xxxi - Where in the gust, the whirlwind and the flaw Of Rain and hailstones lovers need not tell Their sorrows. Pale were the sweet lips I saw, Pale were the lips I kiss'd, and fair the form I floated with about that melancholy storm.

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