Letters of John Keats to Fanny Brawne: Written in the Years MDCCCXIX and MDCCCXXReeves & Turner, 1878 - 128 pages |
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addressed admired affectionate J. K. Barry Cornwall bear Beauty believe Brawne family Brawne's BUXTON FORMAN Charles Armitage Brown Charles Brown Charles Wentworth Dilke Charmian Cottage dear Girl dearest Fanny dearest Girl death demy 8vo ditto door edition FANNY BRAWNE fcap feel FREEMASONRY George Keats gilt give Hamp Hampstead happy hate heart Howitt Indicator JOHN KEATS Keats and Miss Keats's Kentish Town lady last night Lawn Bank letter live lodged London Lord Houghton's Memoir mind miserable Miss Brawne morning Mother ness never Numbers pain pass passage passion perhaps pleasure plum-tree Poem poet post 8vo Postmark present residence Reynolds Richard Monckton Milnes seems Severn tells Shanklin Shelley Shelley's Sir Charles Dilke sonnet soul spirit thing thought Thursday tion tomorrow volume walk week Wentworth House Wentworth Place Winchester words writing written wrote XXXVII
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Page 120 - 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 lxv - 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 xxxi - 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 lxvi - 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 82 - 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 26 - 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 xxxiii - 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.