Death of John

[BrokenLyre]

I am just sitting here tonight (Saturday 22nd February 11:15 PM) and thinking about 1821, Rome specifically.
That lonely, sacred place near the Spanish Steps and Bernini's Broken Boat. I remember you, my friend, to all my friends.
You mean so much to me.

I came upon this Poem today - by "Erica Jong". Reflections upon John's death. Wanted to share it with you.

http://poetry.rapgenius.com/Erica-jong- ... ated#lyric

Hope you can click on the Link. If you cannot open it, look for it on Google by typing: "Poetry Genius - Erica Jong for Howard Moss"

[Ennis]

"The sacrifice is done."
from The Fall of Hyperion, verse 241

"My only regret is if I die I've left behind no immortal work, nothing to make my friends proud of my memory. But I have lov'd the principle of Beauty in all things, and if I had had the time, I would have made myself remember'd."
from a letter to Fanny Brawne

"My dear dead friend,
you were the first to teach me
how the dust could sing.
I followed in your footsteps
up the Heath.
I listened hard
for Lethe's nightingale.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"At five and twenty,
very far from home,
death picked you up
& sorted to a pip.
& and 15 decades later,
your words breath:
syllables of blood."

["Erica Jong"]

Blessed be, Keats. We love you.

[BrokenLyre]

Well said Ennis.

[Cath]

Love the Jong poem - thanks for posting it. I'm such a bad admirer of our "dear dead friend" - I forgot that it was the anniversary of Keats's death

BUT on my recent trip to London I stumbled across a 1935 edition of Forman's Letters of John Keats (second edition) - a lovely copy with browned edges and no annotations - and only nine pounds. I snapped it up immediately, not caring about my bulging luggage. Somehow it makes a difference reading the letters in an edition that is not polished (I also have the modern Gittings's Selected Letters from Oxford Univ. Press). You feel, however tenuously, that you're being transported back to a former age and being allowed to read something so private & delicate. I can't really explain it, but I thought you'd all know how I feel.

[BrokenLyre]

Cath, I know exactly what you mean. We Keatsians do think alike. I enjoyed hearing from you!

[Raphael]

I know what you mean too Cath.

[marwood]

When I was lucky enough to visit his house in Rome, I took off my shoes to walk up the steps to his room, I must have looked like a mad Englishman! But I wanted to 'feel' where he walked. As I entered his bedroom I felt as though I had been punched in the chest. I stood and listened to the fountain, looked up at the roof tiles, leant against the fireplace. Incredible. Then I visited his grave, I was alone, and sat on the bench opposite reading Nightingale. On his grave were some small flowers, I must admit I picked one and it's pressed in the book of poems I took. Hope this doesn't sound too daft!!

Take care.

[Raphael]

No Marwood, that sounds very moving.