To Solitude - John Keats

O Solitude! If I must with thee dwell, 
Let it not be among the jumbled heap 
Of murky buildings; - climb with me the steep, 
Nature’s Observatory - whence the dell, 
Its flowery slopes - its rivers crystal swell, 
May seem a span: let me thy vigils keep 
‘Mongst boughs pavilioned; where the Deer’s swift leap 
Startles the wild Bee from the Fox-glove bell. 
Ah! fain would I frequent such scenes with thee; 
But the sweet converse of an innocent mind, 
Whose words are images of thoughts refin’d, 
Is my soul’s pleasure; and it sure must be 
Almost the highest bliss of human kind, 
When to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee.

It is these sunny oases in midwinter

That spark the yearning for life in the city,

When the slightest break in the dreariness

Sent me riding the subway across town

To some park whose name I could never pronounce,

And I would walk along the St. Lawrence

That was like the firewall for my old life

And I would sit on the soggy benches

Smoking cigarettes and shivering,

Though it was the warmest day in months.

And then I would walk into one of those antique cafes,

With yellow light and worn out club chairs,

And drink strong coffee and read whatever felt good to read;

It was a Moveable Feast sort of thing.

In my own mind, at least.

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