Poetic Perspective

John Keats gives me perspective. Not from his poetry, but from his life, brief as it was. He was an extremely talented young man who bore much suffering and ultimately an untimely death at 25 from tuberculosis – the same disease that had claimed his brother and mother.

I am no student of poetry, but isn’t his Ode to a Grecian Urn still studied in High School English classes? If we hear the name 'Keats' do we not all think of poetry? However, it is not his beautiful, sensual verse that most moves me.

It is his devotion. He was training to go into medicine when, it is said, he read Edmund Spencer's Faery Queen and was drawn to writing poetry and his gift with words was released. His early works were ridiculed but he persevered. He received little praise in his lifetime although he was befriended by several beloved poets of the era. Shelley wrote the elegy “Adonis” for his friend, and he himself was found with a volume of Keats’ poetry in his pocket when he drowned. The two are buried near one another in Rome.

What amazes me though is that one year before his death, in February 1820, Keats wrote to his sweetheart Fanny Brawne, "I have left no immortal work behind me — nothing to make my friends proud of my memory — but I have lov'd the principle of beauty in all things, and if I had had time I would have made myself remember'd."


If only he had known then that his work would be among the most loved in English literature! And yet, what if it hadn’t? He still followed his heart to its most noble calling. He put forward his best. He loved with purity and passion. This alone made his friends proud of his memory.

I find it interesting that we are drawn to historical people such as this who did not receive accolades and lived with the uncertainty of their talent, only to be recognised and revered posthumously. It rings with a truth that if we do what we are meant to do then we are in the right place, whether we see confirmation around us or not. It is not greatness that we should aspire to, but wholehearted truth and beauty. It is a romantic notion to be sure, but one that inspires a noble perspective of life.

So it was with sweet delight that we stumbled upon his home in Hampstead Heath as we were looking for the nearby park with the ‘best view of London’. When we saw the simple sign Keats House there was no need to say more. His work and his life have made his name one to be remembered.

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