Here's something you might be interested in.
Ask a Hipster — Advice you didn't know you needed
Big Screen — Movie commentary
Blurt — Music's inside track
Booze News — San Diego spirits
Classical Music — Immortal beauty
Classifieds — Free and easy
Cover Stories — Front-page features
Drinks All Around — Bartenders' drink recipes
Excerpts — Literary and spiritual excerpts
Feast! — Food & drink reviews
Feature Stories — Local news & stories
Fishing Report — What’s getting hooked from ship and shore
From the Archives — Spotlight on the past
Golden Dreams — Talk of the town
The Gonzo Report — Making the musical scene, or at least reporting from it
Letters — Our inbox
Movies@Home — Local movie buffs share favorites
Movie Reviews — Our critics' picks and pans
Musician Interviews — Up close with local artists
Neighborhood News from Stringers — Hyperlocal news
News Ticker — News & politics
Obermeyer — San Diego politics illustrated
Outdoors — Weekly changes in flora and fauna
Overheard in San Diego — Eavesdropping illustrated
Poetry — The old and the new
Reader Travel — Travel section built by travelers
Reading — The hunt for intellectuals
Roam-O-Rama — SoCal's best hiking/biking trails
San Diego Beer — Inside San Diego suds
SD on the QT — Almost factual news
Sheep and Goats — Places of worship
Special Issues — The best of
Street Style — San Diego streets have style
Surf Diego — Real stories from those braving the waves
Theater — On stage in San Diego this week
Tin Fork — Silver spoon alternative
Under the Radar — Matt Potter's undercover work
Unforgettable — Long-ago San Diego
Unreal Estate — San Diego's priciest pads
Your Week — Daily event picks
When I Have Fears
- When I have fears that I may cease to be
- Before my pen has glean’d my teeming brain,
- Before high-piled books, in charactery,
- 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, fair creature of an hour,
- That I shall never look upon thee more,
- Never have relish in the faery power
- Of unreflecting love; — then on the shore
- Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
- Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.
John Keats (1795–1821) was one of the greatest English poets of the 19th Century. Although he died young from tuberculosis and published only three slim volumes of poetry, he is one of the most loved and honored poets in our language. But during his own lifetime he was frequently attacked by the literary critics. John Gibson Lockhart called him an “upstart Cockney poetaster” and characterized his work as mawkish and bad-mannered; while John Wilson Croker characterized his poetry as consisting of “the most incongruous ideas in the most uncouth language.”
In 1804 Keats’s father, the owner of a livery stable, died following a stumble his horse took. Keats’s mother remarried unhappily, lost some of her inheritance to her second husband, and died of tuberculosis in 1809. In 1811 John was apprenticed to a surgeon. An avid reader, it was apparently Spenser’s The Faerie Queen that awakened his genius for poetic composition. He became friends with the political “radical” editor Leigh Hunt and became enthralled with the idea of democratic reforms in Great Britain.
Keats spent the summer of 1818 on a walking tour in Northern England and Scotland, and after returning home to care for his brother, Tom, who suffered from tuberculosis, he fell in love with Fanny Brawne, a love cut short by his own tuberculosis. Keats went to Rome with his friend, the painter Joseph Severn seeking a warm climate for the winter and died there on February 23, 1821, at the age of 25.
Here's something you might be interested in.
When I Have Fears
When I Have Fears
- When I have fears that I may cease to be
- Before my pen has glean’d my teeming brain,
- Before high-piled books, in charactery,
- 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, fair creature of an hour,
- That I shall never look upon thee more,
- Never have relish in the faery power
- Of unreflecting love; — then on the shore
- Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
- Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.
John Keats (1795–1821) was one of the greatest English poets of the 19th Century. Although he died young from tuberculosis and published only three slim volumes of poetry, he is one of the most loved and honored poets in our language. But during his own lifetime he was frequently attacked by the literary critics. John Gibson Lockhart called him an “upstart Cockney poetaster” and characterized his work as mawkish and bad-mannered; while John Wilson Croker characterized his poetry as consisting of “the most incongruous ideas in the most uncouth language.”
In 1804 Keats’s father, the owner of a livery stable, died following a stumble his horse took. Keats’s mother remarried unhappily, lost some of her inheritance to her second husband, and died of tuberculosis in 1809. In 1811 John was apprenticed to a surgeon. An avid reader, it was apparently Spenser’s The Faerie Queen that awakened his genius for poetic composition. He became friends with the political “radical” editor Leigh Hunt and became enthralled with the idea of democratic reforms in Great Britain.
Keats spent the summer of 1818 on a walking tour in Northern England and Scotland, and after returning home to care for his brother, Tom, who suffered from tuberculosis, he fell in love with Fanny Brawne, a love cut short by his own tuberculosis. Keats went to Rome with his friend, the painter Joseph Severn seeking a warm climate for the winter and died there on February 23, 1821, at the age of 25.
Comments