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To Fanny Brawne

Monday, December 10, 2018Monday, December 10, 2018 admin

Letter to Fanny Brawne, July 8, - Wikisource, the free online library

But if you will fully love me, though there may be some fire, 'twill not be more than we can bear when moistened and bedewed with pleasures. You mention "horrid people" and ask me whether it depend upon them whether I see you again. Do understand me, my love, in this. I have so much of you in my heart that I must turn mentor when I see a chance of harm befalling you.

I would never see any thing but pleasure in your eyes, love on your lips, and happiness in your steps. I would wish to see you among those amusements suitable to your inclinations and spirits; so that our loves might be a delight in the midst of pleasures agreeable enough, rather than a resource from vexations and cares. But I doubt much, in case of the worst, whether I shall be philosopher enough to follow my own lessons: Why may I not speak of your beauty, since without that I could never have lov'd you?

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There may be a sort of love for which, without the least sneer at it, I have the highest respect and can admire it in others: So let me speak of your beauty, though to my own endangering; if you could be so cruel to me as to try elsewhere its power. You say you are afraid I shall think you do not love me—in saying this you make me ache the more to be near you. My sweet Girl—Your Letter gave me more delight than any thing in the world but yourself could do; indeed I am almost astonished that any absent one should have that luxurious power over my senses which I feel.

Even when I am not thinking of you I receive your influence and a tenderer nature stealing upon me.

Stormy, Mistys Foal.
Fanny Brawne - Wikipedia.
Keats Letters To Fanny Brawne, February collection.

All my thoughts, my unhappiest days and nights have I find not at all cured me of my love of Beauty, but made it so intense that I am miserable that you are not with me: I never knew before, what such a love as you have made me feel, was; I did not believe in it; my Fancy was afraid of it, lest it should burn me up. But if you will fully love me, though there may be some fire, 'twill not be more than we can bear when moistened and bedewed with Pleasures.

You mention 'horrid people' and ask me whether it depend upon them whether I see you again. Do understand me, my love, in this. I have so much of you in my heart that I must turn Mentor when I see a chance of harm befalling you.

John Keats Love Letter To Fanny Brawne – 13 October 1819

I would never see any thing but Pleasure in your eyes, love on your lips, and Happiness in your steps. I would wish to see you among those amusements suitable to your inclinations and spirits; so that our loves might be a delight in the midst of Pleasures agreeable enough, rather than a resource from vexations and cares. But I doubt much, in case of the worst, whether I shall be philosopher enough to follow my own Lessons: Why may I not speak of your Beauty, since without that I could never have lov'd you? I cannot conceive any beginning of such love as I have for you but Beauty.

Selected Love Letters to Fanny Brawne | Academy of American Poets?
Realize Your Greatness (A Spectacular Journey to Success, Transformation, and Spiritual Power).
Selected Love Letters to Fanny Brawne.
Borsa: Guadagna tranquillo senza stress (Italian Edition).
Letter to Fanny Brawne, July 8, 1819!

There may be a sort of love for which, without the least sneer at it, I have the highest respect and can admire it in others: So let me speak of your Beauty, though to my own endangering; if you could be so cruel to me as to try elsewhere its Power. You say you are afraid I shall think you do not love me—in saying this you make me ache the more to be near you. I am at the diligent use of my faculties here, I do not pass a day without sprawling some blank verse or tagging some rhymes; and here I must confess, that, since I am on that subject, I love you the more in that I believe you have liked me for my own sake and for nothing else.

I have met with women whom I really think would like to be married to a Poem and to be given away by a Novel. I have seen your Comet, and only wish it was a sign that poor Rice would get well whose illness makes him rather a melancholy companion: I kiss'd your Writing over in the hope you had indulg'd me by leaving a trace of honey. What was your dream?

Keats Letters To Fanny Brawne, February 1820 collection

Tell it me and I will tell you the interpretation threreof. Ever yours, my love! Do not accuse me of delay—we have not here any opportunity of sending letters every day. My love—I have been in so irritable a state of health these two or three last days, that I did not think I should be able to write this week. Not that I was so ill, but so much so as only to be capable of an unhealthy teasing letter.

To night I am greatly recovered only to feel the languor I have felt after you touched with ardency. You say you perhaps might have made me better: What fee my sweet Physician would I not give you to do so. Do not call it folly, when I tell you I took your letter last night to bed with me. In the morning I found your name on the sealing wax obliterated.

I was startled at the bad omen till I recollected that it must have happened in my dreams, and they you know fall out by contraries. You must have found out by this time I am a little given to bode ill like the raven; it is my misfortune not my fault; it has proceeded from the general tenor of the circumstances of my life, and rendered every event suspicious. However I will no more trouble either you or myself with sad prophecies; though so far I am pleased at it as it has given me opportunity to love your disinterestedness towards me.

I can be a raven no more; you and pleasure take possession of me at the same moment.

Bright Star - John Keats & Fanny Brawne (Honeymoon)- UVC

I am afraid you have been unwell. If through me illness have touched you but it must be with a very gentle hand I must be selfish enough to feel a little glad at it. Will you forgive me this? I have been reading lately an oriental tale of a very beautiful color. It is of a city of melancholy men, all made so by this circumstance.

Through a series of adventures each one of them by turns reach some gardens of Paradise where they meet with a most enchanting Lady; and just as they are going to embrace her, she bids them shut their eyes they shut them and on opening their eyes again find themselves descending to the earth in a magic basket. The remembrance of this Lady and their delights lost beyond all recovery render them melancholy ever after. How I applied this to you, my dear; how I palpitated at it; how the certainty that you were in the same world with myself, and though as beautiful, not so talismanic as that Lady; how I could not bear you should be so you must believe because I swear it by yourself.

I cannot say when I shall get a volume ready. I have three or four stories half done, but as I cannot write for the mere sake of the press, I am obliged to let them progress or lie still as my fancy chooses. By Christmas perhaps they may appear, but I am not yet sure they ever will.

Rice has been better lately than usual: Tomorrow I shall, if my health continues to improve during the night, take a look fa[r]ther About the country, and spy at the parties about here who come hunting after the picturesque like beagles.

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It is astonishing how they raven down scenery like children do sweetmeats. The wondrous Chine here as a very great Lion: I wish I had as many guineas as there have been spy-glasses in it. I have been, I cannot tell why, in capital spirits this last hour. When I have to take my candle and retire to a lonely room, without the thought as I fall asleep, of seeing you tomorrow morning?

I should not like to be so near you as London without being continually with you: Meantime you must write to me as I will every week for your letters keep me alive.