#John_Keats, Lines from "#Song_of_the_Indian_maid", Endymion

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"Come then, Sorrow,  

 Sweetest Sorrow!

 Like an own babe I nurse thee on my breast:  

 I thought to leave thee,  

 And deceive thee,  

 But now of all the world I love thee best.  

 

 There is not one,

 No, no, not one  

 But thee to comfort a poor lonely maid;  

 Thou art her mother,  

 And her brother,  

 Her playmate, and her wooer in the shade."

-John Keats,

#ksrpost

26-3-2020.