Forever! ’t is a single word! Our rude forefathers deemed it two; Can you imagine so absurd A view? Forever! What abysms of woe The word reveals, what frenzy, what Despair! For ever (printed so) Did not. It looks, ah me! how trite and tame; It fails to sadden or appall Or solace—it is not the same At all. O thou to whom it first occurred To solder the disjoined, and dower Thy native language with a word Of power: We bless thee! Whether far or near Thy dwelling, whether dark or fair Thy kingly brow, is neither here Nor there. But in men’s hearts shall be thy throne, While the great pulse of England beats: Thou coiner of a word unknown To Keats! And nevermore must printer do As men did long ago; but run “For” into “ever,” bidding two Be one. Forever! passion-fraught, it throws O’er the dim page a gloom, a glamour: It ’s sweet, it ’s strange; and I suppose It ’s grammar. Forever! ’T is a single word! And yet our fathers deemed it two: Nor am I confident they erred;— Are you?
“Forever”
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