I want a brighter word than bright - John Keats

Do you not see how necessary a world of pains and troubles is to school an intelligence and make it a soul?

For Poesy alone can tell her dreams,
With the fine spell of words alone can save
Imagination from the sable charm
And dumb enchantment. Who alive can say,
‘Thou art no Poet may’st not tell thy dreams?’
Since every man whose soul is not a clod
Hath visions, and would speak, if he had loved
And been well nurtured in his mother tongue.
Whether the dream now purpos’d to rehearse
Be poet’s or fanatic’s will be known
When this warm scribe my hand is in the grave.

You are always new. The last of your kisses was ever the sweetest; the last smile the brightest; the last movement the gracefullest.