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I had a dove, and the sweet dove died, And I have thought it died of grieving; O what could it grieve for? Its feet were tied With a silken thread of my own hand’s weaving: Sweet little red feet! Why would you die? Why would you leave me, sweet bird, why? You liv’d alone on the forest tree, Why, pretty thing, could you not live with me? I kiss’d you oft, and gave you white pease; Why not live sweetly as in the green trees? - John Keats (1795–1821)
I cannot exist without you. I am forgetful of everything but seeing you again. My life seems to stop there, I see no further. You have absorb’d me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I were dissolving. I have been astonished that men could die martyrs for religion… I have shudder’d at it… I shudder no more. I could be martyr’d for my religion: Love is my religion. I could die for that. I could die for you. My creed is love, and you are its only tenet. You have ravish’d me away by a power I cannot resist. : John Keats ;)i(: www.facebook.com/... [original photography credit welcomed]
... The pain alone; the joy alone; distinct: 'Only the dreamer venoms all his days, 'Bearing more woe than all his sins deserve. 'Therefore, that happiness be somewhat shar'd, 'Such things as thou art are admitted oft 'Into like gardens thou didst pass erewhile, 'And suffer'd in these temples: for that cause 'Thou standest safe beneath this statue's knees.' ... - The Fall of Hyperion - A Dream by John Keats
Thomas Moore (1779–1852). He was an Irish poet, singer, songwriter, and entertainer, now best remembered for the lyrics of The Minstrel Boy and The Last Rose of Summer. He was responsible, with John Murray, for burning Lord Byron's memoirs after his death. In his lifetime he was often referred to as Anacreon Moore.