Oh Fanny Brawne
Oh Fanny Brawne
Dear, sweetheart, sweet Fanny Brawne loved her dying man
loved him through the day and night, just to take his hand.
When her poor poet John went off to die in a hush
she wandered the moors through the heath from dawn till dusk
Oh sweet Fanny Brawne longed and sighed, to hear him sing;
with winsome heart, she kept her man’s emerald ring.
Who could love their dying poet like Fanny Brawne;
who could create a brighter star than her man, John.
Every poet wants the heart of such a lover
to steadfastly hold and kiss within the clover.
So forlorn is John, and Fanny roams the heath
with him above the stars and her held far beneath;
They long to touch that splendor hung aloft in night
To hold fast once again their silent star so bright.
© RH Peat 2/16/2011
A truly beautiful sonnet that captures the wonder of the love Keats was privileged to experience just perfectly. I saw Jane Campion's marvellous film on the subject, and this admirable poem captures the essence just as perfectly. :)
i just envy poets who can write sonnets...luv the romance (albeit sad), luv the rhyme and how the lines sing!!
this is so poignant Ron.and the images are so striking...somehow remind me of Lucy poems by Wordsworth ...this undoubtedly goes to my bookmarks :)
This has longing and nostalgia , the images wander softly giving the strength to the subject and the linkage with poet's heart