FANTASY
the pleasure is always elsewhere:
and is dissolved, only to touch, sweet,
as bubbles when rain hits.
Let her then wander, her, the winged,
for thinking that front yet, in it extends.
Opens you the door to the cage of the mind,
and, you will see, it will launch flying into the sky.
(John Keats)
http://www.amazon.com/Complete-Selected-Letters-Library-Classics/dp/0375756698
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