Saturday Rave: This living hand, by John Keats.

 Just to prove that Halloween doesn't have to be all orange plastic and disease-inducing snacks:

This living hand, now warm and capable

Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold

And in the icy silence of the tomb,

So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights

That thou would wish thine own heart dry of blood

So in my veins red life might stream again,

And thou be conscience-calm'd - see here it is - 

I hold it towards you.

John Keats, who is now acknowledged as one of the greatest poets in the English language, died in 1821 at the age of twenty four, largely unappreciated.

His birthday seems to have been on October 31st; but as far as I know all his haunting has been done, not through his hand, but through his pen.

Word To Use Today: grasp. This word comes from the Low German grapsen.