约翰·济慈（JohnKeats，1795年—1821年），出生于18世纪末年的伦敦，他是杰出的英诗作家之一，也是浪漫派的主要成员。

To George and Georgiana Keats, 14th October 1818

My dear George;

I am grieved to say that I am not sorry you had not letters at Philadelphia; you could have had no good news of Tom and I have been withheld on his account from beginning these many days; I could not bring myself to say the truth, that he is no better, but much worse—However it must be told, and you must my dear brother and sister take example from me and bear up against any Calamity for my sake as I do for yours.

I have Fanny and I have you—three people whose Happiness to me is sacred—and it does annul that selfish sorrow which I should otherwise fall into, living as I do with poor Tom who looks upon me as his only comfort—the tears will come into your eyes—let them—and embrace each other—thank heaven for what happiness you have and after thinking a moment or two that you suffer in common with all Mankind hold it not a sin to regain your cheerfulness.

Since I wrote thus far I have met with that same lady again, whom I saw at Hastings and whom I met when we were going to the English Opera. It was in a street which goes from Bedford Row to Lamb’s Conduit Street—I passed her and turned back—she seemed glad of it; glad to see me and not offended at my passing her before We walked on towards Islington where we called on a friend of hers who keeps a boarding school.

As we went along, some times through shabby, sometimes through decent streets I had my guessing at work, no knowing what it would be and prepared to meet and surprise—First it ended at this House at Islington: on parting from which I pressed to attend her home. She consented and the again my thoughts were at work what it might lead to, tho’ now they had received a sort of genteel hint from the Boarding School. Our walk ended in 34 Gloucester Street Queen Square—not exactly so for we went up stairs into her sitting room—a very tasty sort of place with books, pictures a bronze statue of Buonaparte, music, aolian Harp; a Parrot a Linnet—A Case of choice Liquers. She behaved in the kindest manner—made me take home a Gouse for Tom’s dinner—Asked for my address for the purpose of sending more game—As I thought it would be living backwards not to do so again—she had a better taste: she perceived how much a thing of course it was and shrunk from it—not in a prudish way but in as I say a good taste—She contrived to disappoint me in a way which made me feel more pleasure than a simple kiss could do—she said I should please her much more if I would only press her hand and go away. Whether she was in a different disposition when I saw her before—or whether I have in fancy wronged her I cannot tell—I expect to pass some pleasant hours with her now and then: in which I feel I shall be of service to her in matters of knowledge and taste: if I can I will—I have no libidinous thought about her—she and your George are the only women a peu pres de mon age whom I would be content to know for their mind and friendship alone—I shall in a short time write you as far as I know how I intend to pass my life—I cannot think of those things now Tom is so unwell and weak. Notwithstand your happiness and your recommendation I hope I shall never marry. Though the most beautiful creature were waiting for me at the end of a journey or a walk; though the carpet were of silk, the curtains of the morning Clouds; the chairs and sofa stuffed with Cygnet’s down; the food Manna, the Wine beyond Claret, the Window opening on Winander mere, I should not feel—or rather my happiness would not be so fine, as my solitude is sublime. Then instead of what I have described, there is a Sublimity to welcome me home—The roaring of the wind is my wife and the stars through the window pane are my children. The mighty abstract idea I have of Beauty in all things stifles the more divided and minute domestic happiness—an amiable wife and sweet children I contemplate as a part of that Beauty, but I must have a thousand of those day, as my imagination strengthens, that I do not live in this world alone but in a thousand worlds—No sooner am I alone than shapes of epic greatness are stationed around me, and serve my spirit the office which is equivalent to a king’s body guard—then ‘Tragedy, with sceptered pall, comes sweeping by’.
Be as happy as you can. Think of me and for my sake be cheerful. Believe me my dear brother and sister

Your anxious and affectionate brother
John

This day is my birthday
All our friends have been anxious in their enquiries and all send their rembrances.