O that a week could be an age, and we <br />Felt parting and warm meeting every week, <br />Then one poor year a thousand years would be, <br />The flush of welcome ever on the cheek: <br />So could we live long life in little space, <br />So time itself would be annihilate, <br />So a day's journey in oblivious haze <br />To serve ourjoys would lengthen and dilate. <br />O to arrive each Monday morn from Ind! <br />To land each Tuesday from the rich Levant! <br />In little time a host of joys to bind, <br />And keep our souls in one eternal pant! <br />This morn, my friend, and yester-evening taught <br />Me how to harbour such a happy thought.<br /><br />John Keats<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-john-hamilton-reynolds/
