...my eyes fixed on Hampstead all day. Then there was a good hope of seeing her again — Now ! — О that 1 could be buried near where she lives ! I am...hear of her anyhow, to see her name written, would bo more than I can bear. My dear Brown, what am I to do? Where can I look for consolation or ease ?...

...untimely death. Speaking of the lady to whom he was so passionately attached, he says, " Oh that I could be buried near where she lives ! I am afraid...— to see her hand-writing would break my heart." And a little later, after lying peacefully awhile, he said to a friend, "I can feel the flowers growing...

...eyes fixed on Hampstead all day. Then there was a good hope of seeing her again—Now !—O that I could be buried near where she lives ! I am afraid. to write to her—to receive a letter from her—to see her handwriting would break my heart—even to hear of...

...been to no love-tale, real or imaginary. " I can bear to die," he says, " I cannot bear to leave her I am afraid to write to her — to receive a letter...her name written, would be more than I can bear." " What other words," says Lord Houghton in his Life of Keats, "can tell the story like his own ? What...

...to write to her—to receive a letter from her—to see her handwriting would break my heart—even to hear of her anyhow, to see her name written, would be more than I can bear." " What other words," says Lord Houghton in his Life of Keats, "can tell the story like his own ? What...

...fixed on Hampstead all day. Then there was a good hope of seeing her again, — now ! — , O that I could be buried near where she lives ! I am afraid...do ? Where can I look for consolation or ease ? If I had any chance of recovery, this passion would kill me. Indeed, through the whole of my illness,...

...fixed on Hampstead all day. Then there was a good hope of seeing her again, — now ! — O that I could be buried near where she lives ! I am afraid...do ? Where can I look for consolation or ease ? If I had any chance of recovery, this passion would kill me. Indeed, through the whole of my illness,...

...shuddering the time that I was a prisoner at Hunt's, and used to keep my eyes fixed on Hampstead all day. I am afraid to write to her ; to receive a letter...from her, to see her handwriting would break my heart : through the whole of my illness this fever has never ceased wearing me out." And again : " The thought...

...There is nothing in the world of sufficient interest to divert me from her a moment. . . . O that I could be buried near where she lives ! I am afraid to write to her — 98 to receive a letter from her — to see her handwriting would break my heart — even to hear...

...— t hear her. There is nothing of sufficient interest to divert me from her a moment. Oh, that I could be buried near where she lives ! I am afraid...her — to see her handwriting would break my heart — ever to hear of her anyhow, to see her name written, would be more than I can bear. " When he sailed...