Brother belov'd if health shall smile again, <br />Upon this wasted form and fever'd cheek: <br />If e'er returning vigour bid these weak <br />And languid limbs their gladsome strength regain, <br />Well may thy brow the placid glow retain <br />Of sweet content and thy pleas'd eye may speak <br />The conscious self applause, but should I seek <br />To utter what this heart can feel, Ah! vain <br />Were the attempt! Yet kindest friends while o'er <br />My couch ye bend, and watch with tenderness <br />The being whom your cares could e'en restore, <br />From the cold grasp of Death, say can you guess <br />The feelings which these lips can ne'er express; <br />Feelings, deep fix'd in grateful memory's store.<br /><br />John Keats<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-to-george-keats-written-in-sickness/
