Rottenheart

Late Summer September 1898, Hampstead, London

Late Summer

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time

I have been half in love with easeful Death,

Call’d him soft names in many a mused rhyme,

To take into the air my quiet breath;

Now more than ever seems it rich to die,

To cease upon the midnight with no pain

‘Ode to a Nightingale’, John Keats