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
death thank-god growing
I shall soon be laid in the quiet grave--thank God for the quiet grave--O! I can feel the cold earth upon me--the daisies growing over me--O for this quiet--it will be my first.
death sleep eagles
My spirit is too weak--mortality Weighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep, And each imagin'd pinnacle and steep Of godlike hardship tells me I must die Like a sick Eagle looking at the sky.
death thank-god quiet
I shall soon be laid in the quiet grave - thank God for the quiet grave
lap legends
Asleep in lap of legends old.
sleep eye lows
Soft closer of our eyes! Low murmur of tender lullabies!
intelligent ambassadors canaries
Why employ intelligent and highly paid ambassadors and then go and do their work for them? You don't buy a canary and sing yourself.
caring thinking feet
I do think better of womankind than to suppose they care whether Mister John Keats five feet high likes them or not.
summer sweet looks
In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy brook, Thy bubblings ne'er remember Apollo's summer look; But with a sweet forgetting, They stay their crystal fretting, Never, never petting About the frozen time.
dream sleep past
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music:--do I wake or sleep?
joy
But were there ever any Writhed not at passed joy?
years soul deeds
O for ten years, that I may overwhelm / Myself in poesy; so I may do the deed / That my own soul has to itself decreed.
dream luxury long
No, no, I'm sure, My restless spirit never could endure To brood so long upon one luxury, Unless it did, though fearfully, espy A hope beyond the shadow of a dream.
heart sorrow may
O, sorrow! Why dost borrow Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?
night voice bird
Thou wast not born for death, immortal bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown.