John Keats

Here you will find the Poem Lines To Fanny of poet John Keats

Lines To Fanny

What can I do to drive away
Remembrance from my eyes? for they have seen, 
Aye, an hour ago, my brilliant Queen! 
Touch has a memory. O say, love, say, 
What can I do to kill it and be free 
In my old liberty? 
When every fair one that I saw was fair 
Enough to catch me in but half a snare, 
Not keep me there: 
When, howe'er poor or particolour'd things, 
My muse had wings, 
And ever ready was to take her course 
Whither I bent her force, 
Unintellectual, yet divine to me;-- 
Divine, I say! -- What sea-bird o'er the sea 
Is a philosopher the while he goes 
Winging along where the great water throes?

How shall I do 
To get anew 
Those moulted feathers, and so mount once more 
Above, above 
The reach of fluttering Love, 
And make him cower lowly while I soar? 
Shall I gulp wine? No, that is vulgarism, 
A heresy and schism, 
Foisted into the canon law of love;--
No,-- wine is only sweet to happy men; 
More dismal cares 
Seize on me unawares,--
Where shall I learn to get my peace again? 
To banish thoughts of that most hateful land, 
Dungeoner of my friends, that wicked strand 
Where they were wreck'd and live a wrecked life; 
That monstrous region, whose dull rivers pour 
Ever from their sordid urns unto the shore, 
Unown'd of any weedy-haired gods; 
Whose winds, all zephyrless, hold scourging rods, 
Iced in the great lakes, to afflict mankind; 
Whose rank-grown forests, frosted, black, and blind, 
Would fright a Dryad; whose harsh herbag'd meads 
Make lean and lank the starv'd ox while he feeds; 
There flowers have no scent, birds no sweet song, 
And great unerring Nature once seems wrong.

O, for some sunny spell 
To dissipate the shadows of this hell! 
Say they are gone,-- with the new dawning light 
Steps forth my lady bright! 
O, let me once more rest 
My soul upon that dazzling breast! 
Let once again these aching arms be plac'd, 
The tender gaolers of thy waist!
And let me feel that warm breath here and there 
To spread a rapture in my very hair,-- 
O, the sweetness of the pain! 
Give me those lips again! 
Enough! Enough! it is enough for me 
To dream of thee!