I’m really looking forward to seeing Jane Campion’s new film, Bright Star, which is based on the true story of the doomed romance between 19th century poet John Keats and his unconventional young neighbour, Fanny Brawne. For three years they kept their romance secret, only to have Keats die at the age of 25 from consumption (otherwise known as TB).
This one of my favourite poems by Keats, the first verse of which I learned at school…
From Endymion
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o’er-darkened ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old, and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
‘Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
All lovely tales that we have heard or read:
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven’s brink.
From A Book of Poetry, selected & edited by W.M. Smyth, Edward Arnold (Publishers) Ltd, London. 1968. SBN 713114215 p177
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