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
music men tears
Music's golden tongue Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor.
world chaos graves
The world is too brutal for me-I am glad there is such a thing as the grave-I am sure I shall never have any rest till I get there.
horse poetry pegasus
They swayed about upon a rocking horse, And thought it Pegasus.
light sight darkness
Ay, on the shores of darkness there is a light, and precipices show untrodden green; there is a budding morrow in midnight; there is triple sight in blindness keen.
writing comfort clean
All clean and comfortable I sit down to write.
world height misery
No one can usurp the heights... But those to whom the miseries of the world Are misery, and will not let them rest.
men priesthood perpetual
Literary men are . . . a perpetual priesthood.
thinking mind originals
Many have original minds who do not think it - they are led away by custom!
beautiful hate flower
We hate poetry that has a palpable design upon us - and if we do not agree, seems to put its hand in its breeches pocket. Poetry should be great & unobtrusive, a thing which enters into one's soul, and does not startle it or amaze it with itself but with its subject. - How beautiful are the retired flowers! how would they lose their beauty were they to throng into the highway crying out, "admire me I am a violet! dote upon me I am a primrose!"
art excellence intensity
The excellence of every art is its intensity, capable of making all disagreeables evaporate, from their being in close relationship with beauty and truth.
men doe speak
How does the poet speak to men with power, but by being still more a man than they
truth tests aphorism
We have oftener than once endeavoured to attach some meaning to that aphorism, vulgarly imputed to Shaftesbury, which however we can find nowhere in his works, that "ridicule is the test of truth."
happiness tree branches
In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity.
ego one-you-love loses
Its better to lose your ego to the One you Love than to lose the One you Love to your Ego