Book 4 — CCXLIII THE TERROR OF DEATH
Reading edition
When I have fears that I may cease to be Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain, Before high-piléd books, in charact'ry Hold like rich garners the full-ripen'd grain; When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance; And when I feel, fair Creature of an hour! That I shall never look upon thee more, Never have relish in the faery power Of unreflecting love—then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink.
Keats