Skipping Stones (Original Cut)

Since my first post (all those, like, four days ago), I have been nagged by the memory of a poem that seemed to get at what I was trying to say much more succintly. Found it. Keats. Clearly, there is a missing line between the last two that would reveal that, in addition to thinking, he was chucking rocks.

52. When I have fears that I may cease to be

WHEN I have fears that I may cease to be   Before my pen has glean’d my teeming brain, Before high piled books, in charact’ry,   Hold like rich garners the full-ripen’d grain; When I behold, upon the night’s starr’d face,         5   Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace   Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance; And when I feel, fair creature of an hour!   That I shall never look upon thee more,         10 Never have relish in the faery power   Of unreflecting love!—then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink. http://www.bartleby.com/126/52.html