To Fanny Brawne, 1820
Sweetest Fanny,
- You fear sometimes I do not love you so much as you wish? My dear Girl, I love you ever and ever and without reserve. The more I have known, the more I have loved. In every way, - even my jealousies have been agonies of Love; in the hottest fit I ever had I would have died for you. I have vexed you too much. But for Love! Can I help it? You are always new. The last of your kisses was ever the sweetest, the last smile the brightest, the last movement the gracefullest. When you passed by my window home yesterday, I was filled with as much admiration as if I had seen you for the first time. You uttered half a complaint once that I only loved your beauty. Have I nothing else then to love in you but that? Do I not see a heart naturally furnished with wings imprison itself with me? No ill prospect has been able to turn your thoughts a moment from me. This perhaps should be as much a subject of sorrow as of joy - but I will not talk of that. Even if you did not love me I could not help an entire devotion to you: how much more deeply then must I feel for knowing you love me. My Mind has been the most discontented and restless one that was ever put into a body too small for it. I never felt my mind repose upon anything with complete and undistracted enjoyment - upon no person but you. When you are in the room my thoughts never fly out the window; you always concentrate my whole senses. The anxiety shown about our Loves in your last note is an immense pleasure to me; however, you must not suffer such speculations to molest you any more; nor will I any more believe you can have the least pique against me. Brown is gone out - but here is Mrs Wylie - when she is gone I shall be awake for you. Remembrances to your mother.
Your affectoinate,
J. Keats
