Bright Star

by John Keats

	Bright star! would I were steadfast as thou art --
		Not in lone splendor hung aloft the night
	And watching, with eternal lids apart,
		Like nature's patient, sleepless eremite,
	The moving waters at their priest-like task
		Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
	Or gazing on the new soft fallen mask
		Of snow upon the mountains and the moors --
	No -- yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,
		Pillowed upon my fair love's ripening breast,
	To feel forever its soft fall and swell,
		Awake forever in a sweet unrest,
	Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
	And so live ever -- or else swoon to death.

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