Love That Endures
All men seek true love
They say,
And once they've had
A little play,
They don't stay.
However you are here
For long,
A little mad,
And if I'm wrong,
I'll end my song.
Keats
Everybody's trying to decide
What is good in Keats. And
nothing bad.
His thoughts? They are a
school boy's second reader.
His words? Could these be
really what he had?
If it was, and really can
one say?
In poesy, it's magic men are seeking.
And Keats had that – mad
sanity somehow -
As though his soul was doing
all the speaking.
I've been crazy all my life
like Keats -
Crazy is the word – and
Keats can tell -
As I can not. And do I have
the stealth
To purloin a little heaven
out of hell?
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