old stuff

When I have fears that I may cease to be  
Before my pen has glean’d my teeming brain,  
Before high piled books, in charact’ry,  
Hold like rich garners the full-ripen’d grain;  
When I behold, upon the night’s starr’d face,  
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,  
And think that I may never live to trace  
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;  
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour!  
That I shall never look upon thee more,  
Never have relish in the faery power  
Of unreflecting love!—then on the shore  
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think  
Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink.

John Keats 1795–1821 

Studio wall Atelierwand mit neuen cut out's Delphinen und Anker

 Feet in the church

Blume und drei Monde