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JOHN KEATS (1)
English poet
(1795 - 1821)
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I wish you could invent some means to make me at all happy without you. Every hour I am more and more concentrated in you; everything else tastes like chaff in my mouth.
      - Letters (no. XXXVII) [Love]

You have ravished me away by a Power I cannot resist; and yet I could resist till I saw you; and even since I have seen you I endeavored often "to reason against the reasons of my Love."
      - Letters to Fanny Braune (VIII) [Reason]

Souls of poets dead and gone,
  What Elysium have ye known,
    Happy field or mossy cavern,
      Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern?
      - Mermaid Tavern [Inns]

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
  Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
    Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd,
      Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone.
      - Ode on a Grecian Urn [Music]

Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time.
      - Ode on a Grecian Urn [Silence]

Thou still unravished bride of quietness,
  Thou foster-child of silence and slow time.
      - Ode on a Grecian Urn [Books (First Lines)]

Beauty is truth, truth beauty,--that is all
  Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
      - Ode on a Grecian Urn (st. 5) [Beauty : Truth]

And mid-May's eldest child,
  The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,
    The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eyes.
      - Ode to a Nightingale [Musk Roses]

Dance and Provencal song and sunburnt mirth!
  On for a beaker full of the warm South,
    Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene!
      With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
        And purple-stained mouth.
      - Ode to a Nightingale [Wine and Spirits]

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
  My sense.
      - Ode to a Nightingale [Books (First Lines)]

Underneath large blue-bells tented
  Where the daisies are rose-scented,
    And the rose herself has got
      Perfume which on earth is not.
      - Ode--Bards of Passion and of Mirth
        [Flowers]

Where the nightingale doth sing
  Not a senseless, tranced thing,
    But divine melodious truth.
      - Ode--Bards of Passion and of Mirth
        [Nightingales]

But the rose leaves herself upon the brier,
  For winds to kiss and grateful bees to feed.
      - On Fame [Roses]

Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold,
  And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
    Round many western islands have I been
      Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.
        Oft of one wide expanse had I been told
          That deep-brow'd Homer rules as his demesne,
            Yet did I never breathe its pure serene
              Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold;
                Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
                  When a new planet swims into his ken;
                    Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes
                      He stared at the Pacific,--and all his men
                        Look'd at each other with a wild surmise,--
                          Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
      - On First Looking Into Chapman's Homer,
        (Cortez confused with Balboa)
        [Books (First Lines) : Poets]

Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
      - On First Looking Into Chapman's Homer
        [Books (Last Lines)]

On a lone winter evening, when the frost
  Has wrought a silence.
      - On the Grasshopper and Cricket [Winter]

The poetry of earth is never dead;
  . . . .
    The poetry of earth is ceasing never.
      - On the Grasshopper and Cricket [Poetry]

When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
  And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
    From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;
      That is the grasshopper's--he takes the lead
        In summer luxury--he has never done
          With his delights, for when tired out with fun,
            He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
      - On the Grasshopper and Cricket
        [Grasshoppers]

And on the balmy zephyrs tranquil rest
  The silver clouds.
      - Posthumous Poems--Sonnets--Oh! How I Love on a Fair Summer's Eve
        [Zephyrs]

A drainless shower
  Of light is poesy: 'tis the supreme of power;
    'Tis might half slumbering on its own right arm.
      - Sleep and Poetry (l. 237) [Poetry]

To one who has been long in city pent,
  'Tis very sweet to look into the fair
    And open face of heaven,--to breathe a prayer
      Full in the smile of the blue firmament.
      - Sonnet XIV (l. 1) [Country Life]

O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell,
  Let it not be among the jumbled heap
    Of murky buildings: climb with me the steep,--
      Nature's observatory--whence the dell,
        In flowery slopes, its river's crystal swell,
          May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep
            'Mongst boughs pavilion'd, where the deer's swift leap
              Startles the wild bee from the foxglove bell.
      - Sonnet--O Solitude! If I must With Thee Dwell
        [Solitude]

There is a budding morrow in midnight.
      - Sonnet--Standing alone in giant Ignorance
        [Tomorrow]

Son of the old moon-mountains African!
  Stream of the Pyramid and Crocodile!
    We call thee fruitful, and that very while
      A desert fills our seeing's inward span.
      - Sonnet--To the Nile [Nile River]

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.
      - Stanzas [December]


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