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
dancing soul poppies
Through the dancing poppies stole A breeze, most softly lulling to my soul.
travel america gold
Much have I traveled in the realms of gold, and many goodly states and kingdoms seen.
gossip silence repeats
To silence gossip, don't repeat it.
dream stars night
Tall oaks branch charmed by the earnest stars Dream and so dream all night without a stir.
sweet flower feet
I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet.
sweet wings white
Here are sweet peas, on tiptoe for a flight; With wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white, And taper fingers catching at all things, To bind them all about with tiny rings.
grateful kissing wind
But the rose leaves herself upon the brier, For winds to kiss and grateful bees to feed.
writing kissing letters
Ask yourself my love whether you are not very cruel to have so entrammelled me, so destroyed my freedom. Will you confess this in the Letter you must write immediately, and do all you can to console me in it — make it rich as a draught of poppies to intoxicate me —write the softest words and kiss them that I may at least touch my lips where yours have been. For myself I know not how to express my devotion to so fair a form: I want a brighter word than bright, a fairer word than fair.
eye his-eyes purpose
The creature has a purpose, and his eyes are bright with it.
beauty overcoming poet
With a great poet the sense of Beauty overcomes every other consideration, or rather obliterates all consideration.
kissing hands slumber
She press'd his hand in slumber; so once more He could not help but kiss her and adore.
wings yellow space
Sometimes goldfinches one by one will drop From low hung branches; little space they stop; But sip, and twitter, and their feathers sleek; Then off at once, as in a wanton freak: Or perhaps, to show their black, and golden wings Pausing upon their yellow flutterings.
love passion romance
Love is my religion - I could die for it.
beauty misunderstood
Beauty is truth, truth beauty