http://keats-poems.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/Love_letters_of_John_Keats-1.pdf An editor's explanation: There is one thing, however, which I have not chosen to do, and that is to include in this collection the poet's love-letters to Fanny Brawne. As it is, the intimate nature of the correspondence must sometimes give the reader a sense of eavesdropping, of being admitted into petty private matters with which he has no concern. If this is to some extent inevitable, it is by no means inevitable that the public should be farther asked to look over the shoulder of the sick and presently dying youth while he declares the impatience and torment of his passion to the object, careless and unresponsive as she seems to have been, who inspired it. These letters too have been printed. As a matter of feeling I cannot put myself in the place of the reader who desires to possess them; while as a matter of literature they are in a different key from the rest,--not lacking passages of beauty, but constrained and painful in the main, and quite without the genial ease and play of mind which make the letters to his family and friends so attractive. Therefore in this, which I hope may become the standard edition of his correspondence, they shall find no place. www.keats - poems.com Love letters of John Keats Page 1 of 19 Love letters of John Keats to Fanny Brawne:  To Fanny Brawne (Newport, July 3, 1819)  To Fanny Brawne (July 8th, 1819)  To Fanny Brawne (11 October, 1819)  To Fanny Brawne (13 October, 1819)  To Fanny Brawne (19 October, 1819)  To Fanny Brawne (10 (?) February 1820)  To Fanny Brawne (February (?) 1820)  To Fanny Brawne (February (?) 1820)  To Fanny Brawne (February (?) 1820)  To Fanny Brawne (February (?) 1820)  To Fanny Brawne (February (?) 1820)  To Fanny Brawne (24 February, 1820)  To Fanny Brawne (March, 1 820)  To Fanny Brawne (March (?) 1820)  To Fanny Brawne (March (?) 1820)  To Fanny Brawne (March (?) 1820)  To Fanny Brawne (May (?) 1820)  To Fanny Brawne (May (?) 1820) www.keats - poems.com Love letters of John Keats Page 2 of 19 To Fanny Brawne (Newport, July 3, 1819) Newport, July 3, 1819 Shanklin, Isle of Wight, Thursday My dearest Lady I am glad I had not an opportunity of sending off a Letter which I wrote for you on Tuesday night - 'twas too much like one out of Rousseau‘s Heloise. I am more reasonable this morning. The morning is the only proper time for me to write to a beautiful Girl whom I love so much: for at night, when the lonely day has closed, and the lonely, silent, unmusical Chamber is waiting to receive me as into a Sepulchre, then believe me my passion gets entirely the sway, then I would not have you see those Rhapsodies which I once thought it impossible I should ever give way to, and which I have often laughed at in another, for fear you should [think me] either too unhappy or perhaps a little mad. I am now at a very pleasant Cottage window, looking onto a beautiful hilly country, with a glimpse of the sea; the morning is very fine. I do not know how elastic my spirit might be, what pleasure I might have in living here and breathing and wandering as free as a stag about this beautiful Coast if the remembrance of you did not weigh so upon me I have never known any unalloy‘d Happiness for many days together: the death or sickness of some one has always spoilt my hours, and now when none such troubles oppress me, it is you must confess very hard that another sort of pain should haunt me. Ask yourself my love whether you are not very cruel to have so entrammelled me, so destroyed my freedom. Will you confess this in the Letter you must write immediately, and do all you can to console me in it, make it rich as a draught of poppies to intoxicate me, write the softest words and kiss them that I may at least touch my lips where yours have been. For myself I know not how to express my devotion to so fair a form: I want a brighter word than bright, a fairer word than fair. I almost wish we were butterflies and liv‘d but three summer days — three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain. But however selfish I may feel, I am sure I could never act selfishly: as I told you a day or two before I left Hampstead, I will never return to London if my Fate does not turn up Pam or at least a Court -card. Though I could centre my Happiness in you, I cannot expect to engross your heart so entirely, indeed if I thought you felt as much for me as I do for you at this moment I do not think I could restrain myself from seeing you again tomorrow for the delight of one embrace. But no, I must live upon hope and Chance. In case of the worst that can happen, I shall still love you, but what hatred shall I have for another! Some lines I read the other day are continually ringing a peal in my ears: To see those eyes I prize above mine own Dart favors on another — And those sweet lips (yielding immortal nectar) Be gently press’d by any but myself — Think, think Francesca, what a cursed thing It were beyond expression! John Keats. Do write immediately. There is no Post from this Place, so you must address Post Office, Newport, Isle of Wight. I know before night I shall curse myself for having sent you so cold a Letter; yet it is better to do it as much in my senses as possible. Be as kind as the distance will permit to your Present my Compliments to your mother, my love to Margaret and best remembrances to your Brother, if you please so. Love Letters of John Keats Page 18 of 19 To Fanny Brawne (May (?) 1820) May (?) 1820 Tuesday Morn My dearest Girl, I wrote a Letter for you yesterday expecting to have seen your mother. I shall be selfish enough to send it though I know it may give you a little pain, because I wish you to see how unhappy I am for love of you, and endeavour as much as I can to entice you to give up your whole heart to me whose whole existence hangs upon you. You could not step or move an eyelid but it would shoot to my heart – I am greedy of you – Do not think of any thing but me. Do not live as if I was not existing – Do not forget me – But have I any right to say you forget me? Perhaps you think of me all day. Have I any right to wish you to be unhappy for me? You would forgive me for wishing it, if you knew the extreme passion I have that you should love me – and for you to love me as I do you, you must think of no one but me, much less write that sentence. Yesterday and this morning I have been haunted with .a sweet vision – I have seen you the whole time in your shepherdess dress. How my senses have ached at it! How my heart has been devoted to it! How my eyes have been full of Tears at it! I[n]deed I think a real Love is enough to occupy the widest heart – Your going to town alone, when I heard of it was a shock to me – yet I expected it – promise me you will not for some time, till I get better. Promise me this and fill the paper full of the most endearing mames [for names]. If you cannot do so with good will, do my Love tell me – say what you think – confess if your heart is too much fasten‘d on the world. Perhaps then I may see you at a greater distance, I may not be able to appropriate you so closely to myself. Were you to loose a favorite bird from the cage, how would your eyes ache after it as long as it was in sight; when out of sight you would recover a little. Perphaps if you would, if so it is, confess to me how many things are necessary to you besides me, I might be happier, by being less tantaliz‘d. Well may you exclaim, how selfish, how cruel, not to let me enjoy my youth! to wish me to be unhappy! You must be so if you love me – upon my Soul I can be contented with nothing else. If you could really what is call‘d enjoy yourself at a Party – if you can smile in peoples faces, and wish them to admire you now, you never have nor ever will love me – I see life in nothing but the cerrtainty of your Love – convince me of it my sweetest. If I am not somehow convinc‘d I shall die of agony. If we love we must not live as other men and women do – I cannot brook the wolfsbane of fashion and foppery and tattle. You must be mine to die upon the rack if I want you. I do not pretend to say I have more feeling than my fellows – but I wish you seriously to look over my letters kind and unkind and consider whether the Person who wrote them can be able to endure much longer the agonies and uncertainties which you are so peculiarly made to create – My recovery of bodily hea[l]th will be of no benefit to me if you are not all mine when I am well. For god‘s sake save me – or tell me my passion is of too awful a nature for you. Again God bless you J.K. No, my sweet Fanny, I am wrong. I do not want you to be unhappy, and yet I do, I must while there is so sweet a Beauty – my loveliest my darling! Good bye! I kiss you – O the torments! Love letters of John Keats Page 19 of 19 To Fanny Brawne (May (?) 1820) May (?) 1820 Wednesday Morng. My dearest Girl, I have been a walk this morning with a book in my hand, but as usual I have been occupied with nothing hut you: I wish I could say in an agreeable manner. I am tormented day and night. They talk of my going to Italy. ̳Tis certain I shall never recover if I am to be so long separate from you: yet with all this devotion to you I cannot persuade myself into any confidenceof you. Past experience connected with the fact of my long separation from you gives me agonies which are scarcely to be talked of. When your mother comes I shall be very sudden and expert in asking her whether you have been to Mrs. Dilke‘s, for she might say no to make me easy. I am literally worn to death, which seems my only recourse. I cannot forget what has pass‘d. What? nothing : with a man of the world, but to me deathful. I will get rid of this as much as possible. When you were in the habit of flirting with Brown you would have left off, could your own heart have felt one half of one pang mine did. Brown is a good sort of Man – he did not know he was doing me to death by inches. I feel the effect of everyone of those hours in my side now; and for that cause, though he has done me many services, though I know his love and friendship for me, though at this moment I should be without pence were it not for his assistance, I will never see or speak to him until we are both old men, if we are to be. I will resent my .heart having been made a football. You will call this madness. I have heard you say that it was not unpleasant to wait a few years – you have amusements – your mind is away – you have not brooded over one idea as I have, and how should you? You are to me an object intensely desireable – the air I breathe in a room empty of you is unhealthy. I am not the same to you – no – you can wait – you have a thousand activities – you can be happy without me. Any party, any thing to fill up the day has been enough. How have you pass‘d this month? Who have you smil‘d with? All this may seem savage in me. You do not feel as I do – you do not know what it is to love – one day you may – your time is not come. Ask yourself how many unhappy hours Keats has caused you in Loneliness. For myself I have been a Martyr the whole time, and for this reason I speak; the confession is forc‘d from me by the torture. I appeal to you by the blood of that Christ you believe in: Do not write to me if you have done anything this month which it would have pained me to have seen. You may have altered – if you have not – if you still behave in dancing rooms and other societies as I have seen you – I do not want to live – if you have done so I wish this coming night may be my last. I cannot live without you, and not only you but chaste you; virtuous you. The Sun rises and sets, the day passes, and you follow the bent of your inclination to a certain extent – you have no conception of the quantity of miserable feeling that passes through me in a day. Be serious ! Love is not a plaything – and again do not write unless you can do it with a crystal conscience. I would sooner die for want of you than – Yours for ever J. Keats.