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John Keats (31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821 / London, England)
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When I Have Fears
When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
Before high-piled books, in charactery,
Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain;
When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love;--then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.
Read poems about / on: romance, magic, power, alone, world, night, love, fear
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I sit and ponder why the imbeciles on this website choose to thumb down comments. I'd never want to divert conversation about this beautiful piece but it just baffles me in every sense why the egotistical, soulless people on this website seek out for attention and just never cease to cause annoyance in any way possible.
The love in his heart guides his words to sonnet perfection.
@Manonton Dalan...it's right to talk about the living poets, but the literary giants can never be replaced...or ignored! ! !
Such an incredible and passionate poem from him. I can feel the desperation and the love in all of his words. He immediately inspires me whenever I read his work and he's by far, one of the greatest poets I've ever read.
that is why we love uuu
My favourite Keats poem! I love his romantic style of writing. I love his morose themes. I love his use of metaphors. I love his honesty.
Also, it's so easy to relate to. Everybody is afraid of dying before they've accomplished in life what they set out to. And it's a credit to him to have left such a legacy in such a short life.
I have yet to come across a poem of his that doesn't leave a mark.
These two lines are just haunting in my opinion, I could never get them out of my head.
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance
you are the best keats!
fear is the greatest weakness of one self so well explained
it's all fear. i hear people talk
about their fear not necessarily
death but simple like getting late.
(poem of the day; this poem will
show again 19feb2913 and so as other
poems every year, i wish poemhunter
do something different... like put some
of the poems of still living poets, maybe
we have opportunity to know first hand
from poet. our interpretation could be
different.)
What an excellently pure comment on a man's fears!