"Health is my expected heaven"
I'm having a Keats moment. He seems to be appearing everywhere. This is from a letter to his beloved, Fanny Brawne. He did not get his expected heaven, at least not in his life - perhaps on the other side.
He lived so briefly, yet left so much art, work and love when he left. I can only marvel at how he achieved so much of this through ill-health. And at the strange and cruel irony that he had studied medicine before choosing poetry.
For some fictional Keats, check out Bright Star - Jane Campion's rumination on creative fertility with the always interesting Ben Whishaw as Keats. Or some historical fiction - Passion by Jude Morgan.