Stop and consider! life is but a day;A fragile dewdrop on its perilous wayFrom a tree’s summit; a poor Indian’s sleepWhile his boat hastens to the monstrous steepOf Montmorenci. Why so sad a moan?Life is the rose’s hope while yet unblown;The reading of an ever-changing tale;The light uplifting of a maiden’s veil;A pigeon tumbling in clear summer air;A laughing schoolboy, without grief or care,Riding the springy branches of an elm. ― John Keats, Bright Star: Love Letters and Poems of John Keats to Fanny Brawne

Stop and consider! life is but a day;A fragile dewdrop on its perilous wayFrom a tree’s summit; a poor Indian’s sleepWhile his boat hastens to the monstrous steepOf Montmorenci. Why so sad a moan?Life is the rose’s hope while yet unblown;The reading of an ever-changing tale;The light uplifting of a maiden’s veil;A pigeon tumbling in clear summer air;A laughing schoolboy, without grief or care,Riding the springy branches of an elm.
― John Keats,

Bright Star: Love Letters and Poems of John Keats to Fanny Brawne

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