Mr. Keats

In your pages, love I find,
And in your lines our souls do bind.
Wonder I how any old pages stay,
For their binding must be frayed.

Though centuries have far gone,
Your words whisper on and on,
Or in tilting my head ‘to view
I gaze ‘pon your figure new.
My heart you hold, like a tree
Does its leaves: so delicately.

But this is  just your cloudy hall;
To blink only once is to fall
From this world that captured my heart.
Always land and sea must be apart,
Only joined on the heel of fairies’ feet,
Never, never will you and I truly meet.

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