——by John Keats（济慈）

　　Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art-

　　　　Not in lone¹ splendour hung aloft the night,

　　And watching, with eternal lids apart,

　　　　Like nature's patient, sleepless² Eremite,

　　The moving waters at their priestlike task

　　　　Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,

　　Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask

　　　　Of snow upon the mountains and the moors³;

　　No-yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,

　　　　Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening⁴ breast,

　　To feel for ever its soft fall and swell⁵,

　　　　Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,

　　Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,

　　And so live ever-or else swoon to death.