John Keats

Sonnet VIII. To My Brothers

Small, busy flames play through the fresh laid coals, And their faint cracklings o'er our silence creep Like whispers of the household gods that keep A gentle empire o'er fraternal souls. And while, for rhymes, I search around the poles, Your eyes are fix d, as in poetic sleep, Upon the lore so voluble and deep, That aye at fall of night our care condoles. This is your birth-day Tom, and I rejoice That thus it passes smoothly, quietly. Many such eves of gently whisp'ring noise May we together pass, and calmly try What are this world s true joys, ere the great voice, From its fair face, shall bid our spirits fly. 'In Tom Keats's copy-book this sonnet is headed "Written to his Brother Tom on his Birthday," and dated, "Nov. 18, 1816. " In the last line the transcript reads "place" for "face. " The sonnet seems to have been originally written in pencil in the note-book . . . immediately after the sonnet to George Keats; but the two quatrains, which fill one page, are all that I found of this sonnet among the Keats relics of Severn. The quatrains stand finally thus in the draft: -- Small flames are peeping through the fresh laid coals And their faint Crackling o'er our Silence creeps Like Whispers of the Household God that keeps A gentle empire o'er fraternal Souls And while for Rhymes I search around the Poles Your Eyes are fixéd as in poetic sleep Upon the Pages Voluble and deep That aye at fall of Night our care condoles. There is a cancelled reading at line 2, unfinished-- 'With a faint Crackling head distract . . . ' and another at line 5 -- 'And while I am thinking of a Rhyme;' and here "searching" was substituted for "thinking of", before the whole was cancelled in favour of the reading of the text. ' ~ Poetical Works of John Keats, ed. H. Buxton Forman, Crowell publ. 1895.