"Lot 65: John Keats to Fanny Brawne A beauty, gentlemen, and in the best Condition. Four leaves, scarcely pressed. What am I bid? Five hundred ... Five ... Come on. Who'll make it Six? Six hundred.... "( Pale and drawn, I dreamed forever in a sweet unrest Of your warm, lucent, million-pleasured breast) "Six hundred ... Now Six fifty ... Are you done?" "Seven ... A half ... Did I hear eight? ... Eight ... Eight ... Who'll make it Nine?" ( Would that I could survive The horrors of a brutal world. I hate All men and women, saving one, alive.) "Nine fifty ... Going ... Sorry, sir; too late. Sold to this party for Nine sixty five." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PARAGRAPHS: 9 by HAYDEN CARRUTH MATERNITY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO MAY HOWARD JACKSON - SCULPTOR by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE DOLL BELIEVERS by CLARENCE MAJOR DOMESDAY BOOK: MRS. GREGORY WENNER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS HER EYES by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |