Keats
John Keats wrote poems, good ones too,
Died very young – ’bout twenty-two;
I wondered how he knew so much
So young, and thus our living touched.But now as death rears up its head,
I comprehend – he'd soon be dead –
Consumption took its toll those days
Like cancer, heart, for us, and AIDS.For facing shortness of our time
Cuts silliness from life and mind;
For him, his age was half the span
That lay before the average man.Today half-time is forty-four;
For lucky few, two decades more;
But everyone must face a day
When life runs out for work and play.It's when we find we cannot dodge
The day when we no more can lodge
Here on this earth, as strong or weak,
We settle down and meaning seek.He settled down and looked around,
Deep into life, and in it found new life –
Those treasures which he shared with those
Who read his words and then arose –From where they sat to life pursue,
Enriched, enabled – me and you.
He lived short years, decades ago
And touched my life, now helps me go.navigation