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
heart awful immortality
There is an awful warmth about my heart like a load of immortality.
beautiful morning writing
I should write for the mere yearning and fondness I have for the beautiful, even if my night's labors should be burnt every morning and no eye shine upon them.
sweet pride air
I stood tip-toe upon a little hill, The air was cooling, and so very still, That the sweet buds which with a modest pride Pull droopingly, in slanting curve aside, Their scantly leaved, and finely tapering stems, Had not yet lost those starry diadems Caught from the early sobbing of the morn.
identity body poet
A poet is the most unpoetical of anything in existence; because he has no identity he is continually informing and filling some other body.
kings warrior saws
I saw pale kings and princes too, Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; They cried- "La Belle Dame sans Merci Hath thee in thrall!
stars imagination long
A long poem is a test of invention which I take to be the Polar star of poetry, as fancy is the sails, and imagination the rudder.
music silver snarling
The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide.
failure positive-experiences discouraged
Don't be discouraged by a failure. It can be a positive experience.
women fall imagination
I am certain I have not a right feeling towards women -- at this moment I am striving to be just to them, but I cannot. Is it because they fall so far beneath my boyish imagination? When I was a schoolboy I thought a fair woman a pure Goddess; my mind was a soft nest in which some one of them slept, though she knew it not.
midnight choir hours
So let me be thy choir, and make a moan Upon the midnight hours.
children women giving
The opinion I have of the generality of women--who appear to me as children to whom I would rather give a sugar plum than my time, forms a barrier against matrimony which I rejoice in.
weed flower men
Where soil is, men grow, Whether to weeds or flowers.
gold realms
Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold.
sweet grieving hands
I had a dove and the sweet dove died; And I have thought it died of grieving: O, what could it grieve for? Its feet were tied, With a silken thread of my own hands' weaving.