object:1.jk - Sonnet VIII. To My Brothers
author class:John Keats
book class:Keats - Poems
subject class:Poetry
class:chapter
Small, busy flames play through the fresh laid coals,
And their faint cracklings o'er our silence creep
Like whispers of the household gods that keep
A gentle empire o'er fraternal souls.
And while, for rhymes, I search around the poles,
Your eyes are fix d, as in poetic sleep,
Upon the lore so voluble and deep,
That aye at fall of night our care condoles.
This is your birth-day Tom, and I rejoice
That thus it passes smoothly, quietly.
Many such eves of gently whisp'ring noise
May we together pass, and calmly try
What are this world s true joys, ere the great voice,
From its fair face, shall bid our spirits fly.
'In Tom Keats's copy-book this sonnet is headed "Written to his Brother Tom on his Birthday," and dated, "Nov. 18, 1816." In the last line the transcript reads "place" for "face." The sonnet seems to have been originally written in pencil in the note-book ... immediately after the sonnet to George Keats; but the two quatrains, which fill one page, are all that I found of this sonnet among the Keats relics of Severn. The quatrains stand finally thus in the draft: --
Small flames are peeping through the fresh laid coals
And their faint Crackling o'er our Silence creeps
Like Whispers of the Household God that keeps
A gentle empire o'er fraternal Souls
And while for Rhymes I search around the Poles
Your Eyes are fixéd as in poetic sleep
Upon the Pages Voluble and deep
That aye at fall of Night our care condoles.
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