Bright Star, would I were steadfast as thou art--
 Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night,
 And watching, with eternal lids apart,
 Like Nature's patient sleepless Eremite,
 The moving waters at their priest-like task
 Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
 Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
 Of snow upon the mountains and the moors--
 No--yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,
 Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
 To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
 Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
      Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
      And so live ever--or else swoon to death.

Of course, this one needs no introduction. I thought of this sonnet, which I had read and loved in school, when reading “The more loving one” by Auden. This is a beautiful love poem, and I agree with you that Keats is the most “natural” poet of the language - whatever he wrote became poetry. Here, the imagery in the octet is purely Romantic - especially “The moving waters at their priest-like task/Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores”; but the sestet turns the focus inward and makes it beautifully tender and intimate - the poet looking at the sleeping form of his beloved and wishing he could capture the moment forever. Not a startlingly original emotion, nor by any means a unique conceit, but perfectly and gracefully executed.

— Anustup

Links

“The More Loving One”, W. H. Auden, Poem #618

Other Keats poems:

“On First Looking Into Chapman’s Homer”, Poem #12 “La Belle Dame Sans Merci”, Poem #182
“Ode to a Nightingale”, Poem #316
“Why did I laugh tonight? No voice will tell”, Poem #33 “To Mrs Reynolds’ Cat”, Poem #575