Happy Birthday, Keats

[intertext]

Probably my all-time favourite poet.

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by emperor and clown:
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
The same that oft-times hath
Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.

Comments

[lidocafe.livejournal.com]

Thanks for reminding me of these lines. The bit about Ruth has always caught at my heart, especially ". . . when, sick for home, / She stood in tears amid the alien corn."

[asakiyume.livejournal.com]

"Charm'd magic casements" reminded me of "The Eve of St. Agnes," which is one of my favorites of his...