John Keats, a name very well known in english literature. yestaerday in a Gujarati newspaper i read about his life, his love and his struggles. He died at the age of 25. Succeess came to him after he left the world. I am touched with the passion and words that he had penned down. I like his letters the most cause it tells me that i am not the only one who is crazy and writes lots and lots of love letters. [I may have more than 500 love letters written to my hubby]

here is a poem of John Keats….

Four Seasons fill the measure of the year;
There are four seasons in the mind of man:
He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear


Takes in all beauty with an easy span:
He has his Summer, when luxuriously
Spring’s honied cud of youthful thought he loves
To ruminate, and by such dreaming high
Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves
His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings
He furleth close; contented so to look
On mists in idleness–to let fair things
Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook.
He has his Winter too of pale misfeature,
Or else he would forego his mortal nature.