I have had a thousand kisses, for which with my whole soul I thank loveโbut if you should deny me the thousand and firstโโt would put me to the proof how great a misery I could live through.
John KeatsThou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown: Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, She stood in tears amid the alien corn; The same that ofttimes hath Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
John Keats