here's another one

By John Keats (how could I forget the poem that graces the door to my room?):

When I have fears that I may cease to be

     Before my pen has gleaned my teaming brain,

Before high-piled books, in charactery,

     Hold like rich garners the full ripened grain;

When I behold, upon the night's starred face,

     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,

Never have relish in the fairy 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.