John Keats wrote:
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
I love to read Keats’ poetry, even though his optimism is so very different from my jaded pessimism. Perhaps because he died before his 26th birthday, he had no time to lose his youthful outlook. I, on the other hand, have lived far longer than I expected to. Many of the beautiful things I once held and cherished are gone.
I can think of nothing that lasts forever. Mutability is the quality of all of life. I wish it were not so, since there are many things I would love to have last forever; for example, the purity of our air and water, beautiful hearted-people, everyone I love. My world view has grown old and tired.
However, Keats’ poetry is a thing of beauty, and I will keep on reading it. I hope it lasts forever.