. Old love stories retold. t do. I speak of the thing as a pastime and anamusement, than which I can feel none deeper thana conversation with an imperial woman, the very yes and no of whose life is to me a banquet. Idont cry to take the moon home with me in mypocket, nor do I fret to leave her behind me. Ilike her, and her like, because one has no sensa-tions: what we both are is taken for granted. Critics for some time mistook this for a de-scription of Fanny Brawne, but it has since trans-pired that Keats was here describing a MissCharlotte (or, according to Rossetti, Jane) Coxe. His first i
. Old love stories retold. t do. I speak of the thing as a pastime and anamusement, than which I can feel none deeper thana conversation with an imperial woman, the very yes and no of whose life is to me a banquet. Idont cry to take the moon home with me in mypocket, nor do I fret to leave her behind me. Ilike her, and her like, because one has no sensa-tions: what we both are is taken for granted. Critics for some time mistook this for a de-scription of Fanny Brawne, but it has since trans-pired that Keats was here describing a MissCharlotte (or, according to Rossetti, Jane) Coxe. His first impression — or inventory — of MissBrawne was, indeed, by no means so compli-mentary. Shall I give you Miss ? She is about my height, with a fine style of countenance of thelengthened sort; she wants sentiment in everyfeature; she manages to make her hair look well;her nostrils are very fine, though a little painful;her mouth is bad and good; her profile is betterthan her full face, which, indeed, is not full, but[ 92 ]. John Keats John Keats and Fanny Brawnepale and thin, without showing any bone; hershape is very graceful, and so are her movements;her arms are good, her hands bad-ish, her feettolerable. She is not seventeen, but she is igno-rant; monstrous in her behaviour, flying out inall directions, calling people such names that Iwas forced lately to make use of the term —Minx: this is, I think, from no innate vice, butfrom a penchant she has for acting stylishly. Iam, however, tired of such style, and shall de-cline any more of it. She had a friend to visither lately; you have known plenty such — sheplays the music, but without one sensation butthe feel of the ivory at her fingers; she is a down-right Miss, without one set-off. We hated her,and smoked her, and baited her, and, I think,drove her away. Miss — — thinks her a paragonof fashion, and says she is the only woman in theworld she would change persons with. What ashape, — she is as superior as a rose t
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