John Keats
John Keats
John Keatswas an English Romantic poet. He was one of the main figures of the second generation of Romantic poets, along with Lord Byron and Percy Bysshe Shelley, despite his work having been in publication for only four years before his death...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth31 October 1795
delight philosopher virtue
What shocks the virtuous philosopher, delights the chameleon poet.
flower marigolds rounds
Open afresh your rounds of starry folds, Ye ardent Marigolds.
flower passive receptive
Let us open our leaves like a flower, and be passive and receptive.
sleep dragons
She hurried at his words, beset with fears, For there were sleeping dragons all around...
summer dream spring
Four Seasons fill the measure of the year; There are four seasons in the mind of man: He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear Takes in all beauty with an easy span: He has his Summer, when luxuriously Spring's honey'd cud of youthful thought he loves To ruminate, and by such dreaming high Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings He furleth close; contented so to look On mists in idleness—to let fair things Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook. He has his Winter too of pale misfeature, Or else he would forego his mortal nature.
flower knowledge eye
Let us not go hurrying about and collecting honey, bee-like buzzing here and there for a knowledge of what is not to be arrived at, but let us open our leaves like a flower, and be passive and receptive, budding patiently under the eye of Apollo, and taking hints from every noble insect that favours us with a visit - sap will be given us for meat and dew for drink.
writing hands talking
Talking of Pleasure, this moment I was writing with one hand, and with the other holding to my Mouth a Nectarine - how good how fine. It went down all pulpy, slushy, oozy, all its delicious embonpoint melted down my throat like a large, beatified Strawberry.
memories liberty
Touch has a memory. O say, love say, What can I do to kill it and be free In my old liberty?
garden sky listening
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft; and gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
thinking indolence awake
He who saddens at thought of idleness cannot be idle, / And he's awake who thinks himself asleep.
friendship dozen drink
My friends should drink a dozen of Claret on my Tomb.
self speak feels
I have nothing to speak of but my self-and what can I say but what I feel
dream heart night
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.
poppies dew stalking
The poppies hung Dew-dabbled on their stalks.