kilt, or the back of my grandmother's stays, tear off his buttons

The following poem, the last I have written, is the first and only one with which I have taken even moderate pains; I have, for the most part, dashed off my lines in a hurry; this one I have done leisurely; I think it reads the more richly for it, and it will I hope encourage me to write other things in even a more peaceable and healthy spirit. You must recollect that Psyche was not embodied as a goddess before the time of Apuleius the Platonist, who lived after the Augustan age, and consequently the goddess was never worshipped or sacrificed to with any of the ancient fervour, and perhaps never thought of in the old religion: I am more orthodox than to let a heathen goddess be so neglected.'

I have been endeavouring to discover a better Sonnet stanza than we have. The legitimate does not suit the language well, from the pouncing rhymes; the other appears too elegiac, and the couplet at the end of it has seldom a pleasing effect. I do not pretend to have succeeded. It will explain itself:

If by dull rhymes our English must be chain'd, &c.?

This is the third of May, and everything is in delightful forwardness: the violets are not withered before the peeping of the first rose. You must let me know everything, how' parcels go and come—what papers you have, and what newspapers you want, and other things. God bless you, my dear brother and sister,

Your ever affectionate brother,

John Keats.

1

For the poem, the Ode to Psyche, see Volume II, pages 119-21.

2 See Volume II, page 339.

My dear Fanny,

LXXXVII.

To FANNY KEATS.

Rd. Abbey's Esq.,

Walthamstow.

Wentworth Place

Saturday Morn

[Postmark, 27 February 1819.]

I intended to have not failed to do as you requested, and write you as you say once a fortnight. On looking to your letter I find there is no date; and not knowing how long it is since I received it I do not precisely know how great a sinner I am. I am getting quite well, and Mrs. Dilke is getting on pretty well. You must pay no attention to Mrs. Abbey's unfeeling and ignorant gabble. You can't stop an old woman's crying more than you can a Child's. The old woman is the greatest nuisance because she is too old for the rod. Many people live opposite a Bla[c]ksmith's till they cannot hear the hammer. I have been in Town for two or three days and came back last night. I have been a little concerned at not hearing from George-I continue in daily expectation. Keep on reading and play as much on the music and the grassplot as you can. I should like to take possession of those Grassplots for a Month or so; and send Mrs. A. to Town to count coffee berries instead of currant Bunches, for I want you to teach me a few common dancing steps-and I would buy a Watch

The last letter, finished on the 3rd of May 1819, had been kept about ever since the 14th of February; and it seemed better to submit to a little see-sawing of dates than to break up the journal by the interpolation of other letters between its paragraphs.

box to practise them in by myself. I think I had better always pay the postage of these Letters. I shall send you another book the first time I am in Town early enough to book it with one of the morning Walthamstow Coaches. You did not say a word about your Chilblains. Write me directly and let me know about them-Your Letter shall be answered like an echo.

I have been employed lately in writing to George -I do not send him very short letters, but keep on day after day. There were some young Men I think I told you of who were going to the Settlement: they have changed their minds, and I am disappointed in my expectation of sending Letters by them.-I went lately to the only dance I have been to these twelve months or shall go to for twelve months again—it was to our Brother in laws' cousin's-She gave a dance for her Birthday and I went for the sake of Mrs. Wylie. I am waiting every day to hear from George-I trust there is no harm in the silence: other people are in the same expectation as we are. On looking at your seal I cannot tell whether it is done or not with a Tassi[e]'-it seems

1 Tassie's imitation gems were very popular in Keats's set. Shelley (Prose Works, Volume IV, page 198) writes to Peacock to go

to me to be paste. As I went through Leicester Square lately I was going to call and buy you some, but not knowing but you might have some I would not run the chance of buying duplicates. Tell me if you have any or if you would like any-and whether you would rather have motto ones like that with which I seal this letter; or heads of great Men such as Shakspeare, Milton &c.—or fancy pieces of Art; such as Fame, Adonis &c.-those gentry you read of at the end of the English Dictionary. Tell me also if you want any particular Book; or Pencils, or drawing paper-anything but live stock. Though I will not now be very severe on it, remembering how fond I used to be of Goldfinches, Tomtits, Minnows, Mice, Ticklebacks, Dace, Cock salmons and all the whole tribe of the Bushes and the Brooks: but verily they are better in the Trees and the water-though I must confess even now a partiality for a handsome Globe of gold-fish-then I would have it hold 10 pails of water and be fed continually fresh through a cool pipe with another pipe to let through the floor-well ventilated they would preserve all their beautiful silver and Crimson. Then I would put it before a handsome painted window and shade it all round with myrtles and Japonicas. I should like the window to open onto the Lake of Geneva-and there I'd sit and read all day like the picture of somebody reading. The weather now and then begins to feel like spring; and therefore I have begun my walks on the heath again. Mrs. Dilke is getting better than she has been as she has at length taken a Physician's advice. She ever and anon asks after you and always bids me

to Leicester Square and get him two pounds' worth, " among them, the head of Alexander”; and Hunt has a laudatory article on them in one of his publications.

remember her in my Letters to you. She is going to leave Hampstead for the sake of educating their son Charles at the Westminster school. We (Mr. Brown and I) shall leave in the beginning of May; I do not know what I shall do or where be all the next summer. Mrs. Reynolds has had a sick house; but they are all well now. You see what news I can send you I do we all live one day like the other as well as you do-the only difference is being sick and well-with the variations of single and double knocks, and the story of a dreadful fire in the Newspapers. I mentioned Mr. Brown's name -yet I do not think I ever said a word about him to you. He is a friend of mine of two years standing, with whom I walked through Scotland: who has been very kind to me in many things when I most wanted his assistance and with whom I keep house till the first of May-you will know him some day. The name of the young Man who came with me is William Haslam.

Ever,

Your affectionate Brother

John.