Bright Star Page #4

John Keats.''

Thank you.

I was wondering this morning

if you're sleeping in my bed.

Pardon?

You see, I believe you are.

We rented Mr. Brown's half of the house

this summer

while you were journeying in Scotland.

Which room do you sleep in?

The one overlooking the back garden.

That was my bed.

For proof, pull it from the wall

and by the pillow, you will find a figure

I drew with pin holes.

Is the figure you?

It's a fairy princess.

-Should I be feeding her?

-She refuses to eat.

Would you teach me poetry?

I'd... I'd Like to understand it.

I don't know how to begin.

And it's three to the right.

Two, three. Three to the left.

Two, three.

And down. And keep it going.

So that's the English drawing room.

And this is something

that I saw in Scotland.

They kick,

and they jump,

and they twirl it,

and they sweat it,

and they tattooed the floor Like mad!

What about a poem?

-Yes. Please, Mr. Keats.

-A short one.

''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''

-I do apologize. I've gone blank.

-You're tired.

Should you Like some sweet?

Shall we have coffee and sweet?

Come through to our side.

I've come for my poetry class.

Your poetry class?

Poetry classes!

Keats, are we teaching poetry today?

I hope I don't disturb.

Take a seat.

Have a look at that.

A poet is not at all poetical.

He is the most un-poetical thing

in existence.

He has no identity.

He is continually filling some other body,

the sun, the moon.

I cannot restrain my credibility longer.

Miss Brawne,

is this really you or are you acting?

-It's really me.

-Is it?

Charles, I have a pupil.

-Desist or depart.

-Apologies.

My modest hope is that the cost

of the lesson will not be the poet.

The cost of the lesson is that Mr. Keats

will forthwith discuss poetry with me.

You don't mean to read the poems?

Until I know all the poets and poems

in the world,

since I've nothing to do,

as you so many times have noted.

I bow to your ambition.

Now he's gone, I shall find it easier to talk.

Can you say something

of the craft of poetry?

Poetic craft is a carcass, a sham.

If poetry does not come as naturally

as leaves to a tree,

then it had better not come at all.

I am mistaken.

I am not sure I can teach you.

Was I too rude? I... I can apologize.

I'm not sure I have

the right feelings towards women.

I'm suspicious of my feelings.

Do you not Like me?

I'm attracted to you without knowing why.

AII women confuse me, even my mother.

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