A blupete Poetry pick

"THE TERROR OF DEATH"

When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
Before high-piled books in charact'ry
Hold like rich garners the full-ripen'd grain;

When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;

And when I feel, fear Creature of an hour!
That I should never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the fairy power
Of unreflecting love -- then on the shore

Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till Love and Fame to nothingness to sink.

By John Keats.
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2011

Peter Landry