Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night,
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature's patient sleepless eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors;
No yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever or else swoon to death.
Poem by John Keats
John Keats Poems
Happy is England! I Could Be Content
The Human Seasons
Where Be Ye Going, You Devon Maid?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Such a lovely poem by John Keats....Thanks for posting it! ! !