Fill For Me A Brimming Bowl

by John Keats

  


Fill for me a brimming bowl And in it let me drown my soul: But put therein some drug, designed To Banish Women from my mind: For I want not the stream inspiring That fills the mind with—fond desiring, But I want as deep a draught As e'er from Lethe's wave was quaff'd; From my despairing heart to charm The Image of the fairest form That e'er my reveling eyes beheld, That e'er my wandering fancy spell'd. In vain! away I cannot chace The melting softness of that face, The beaminess of those bright eyes, That breast—earth's only Paradise. My sight will never more be blest; For all I see has lost its zest: Nor with delight can I explore, The Classic page, or Muse's lore. Had she but known how beat my heart, And with one smile reliev'd its smart I should have felt a sweet relief, I should have felt "the joy of grief." Yet as the Tuscan mid the snow Of Lapland dreams on sweet Arno, Even so for ever shall she be The Halo of my Memory.


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