Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fring’d legend haunts about thy shape
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?

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:
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearied,
For ever piping songs for ever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
For ever warm and still to be enjoy’d,
For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy’d,
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
To what green altar, O mysterious priest,
Lead’st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,
And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
What little town by river or sea shore,
Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e’er return.

O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden weed;
Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st,
“Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.


John Keats

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JOHN KEATS
The only means of strengthening one's intelligence is to make up one's mind about nothing-- to let t...
JOHN KEATS
How beautiful, if sorrow had not made Sorrow more beautiful than Beauty's self.
JOHN KEATS
To Sorrow I bade good-morrow, And though to leave her far away behind; But cheerly, chee...
JOHN KEATS
He play'd an ancient ditty long since mute, In Provence call'd, "La belle dame sans merci."
JOHN KEATS
On a lone winter evening, when the frost Has wrought a silence.
JOHN KEATS
There is a budding morrow in midnight.
JOHN KEATS
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, / Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; / Conspiring with...
JOHN KEATS
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness
JOHN KEATS
The latest dream I ever dreamed / On the cold hill side.
JOHN KEATS
Should ever the fine-eyed maid to me be kind; Ah! surely it must be whenever I find; Some flowery sp...
JOHN KEATS
Much have I traveled in the realms of gold, and many goodly states and kingdoms seen.
JOHN KEATS
Virgin-choir to make delicious moan / Upon the midnight hours.
JOHN KEATS
Oh what can ail thee, wretched wight, / Alone and palely loitering; / The sedge is withered from the...
JOHN KEATS
Soon, up aloft, / The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide.
JOHN KEATS
O, sorrow! Why dost borrow Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?
JOHN KEATS
O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell, Let it not be among the jumbled heap Of murky building...
JOHN KEATS
Dry your eyes--O dry your eyes, For I was taught in Paradise To ease my breast of melodies.
JOHN KEATS
We read fine things but never feel them to the full until we have gone the same steps as the author.
JOHN KEATS
My chest of books divide amongst my friends--
JOHN KEATS
Touch has a memory. O say, love, say,
What can I do to kill it and be free?
JOHN KEATS
Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know
JOHN KEATS
I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the Heart's affections and the truth of the Imagination.
JOHN KEATS
Whatever the imagination seizes as Beauty must be truth -whether it existed before or not
JOHN KEATS
Bright Star

Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art—
Not in lone s...
JOHN KEATS
When shall we pass a day alone? I have had a thousand kisses, for which with my whole soul I thank l...
JOHN KEATS
No sooner had I stepp'd into these pleasures
Than I began to think of rhymes and measures:
JOHN KEATS
I wish I was either in your arms full of faith, or that a Thunder bolt would strike me.
JOHN KEATS
My love is selfish. I cannot breathe without you.
JOHN KEATS
I have been astonished that men could die martyrs
for their religion--
I have shuddered at...
JOHN KEATS
Lorenzo, a young palmer in Love's eye.
JOHN KEATS
I wish to believe in immortality-I wish to live with you forever.
JOHN KEATS
My mind has been the most discontented and restless one that ever was put into a body too small for ...
JOHN KEATS
A thing of beauty is a joy forever:
Its loveliness increases;
It will never
Pass into...
JOHN KEATS
If poetry comes not as naturally as the leaves to a tree, it had better not come at all
JOHN KEATS
Beauty is truth, truth beauty, - that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know
JOHN KEATS
A thing of beauty is a joy forever; its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness
JOHN KEATS
Leaving great verse unto a little clan.
JOHN KEATS
Souls of poets dead and gone, / What Elysium have ye known, / Happy field or mossy cavern, / Choicer...
JOHN KEATS
Away with old Romance! Away with novels, plots and plays of foreign courts; Away with love-verses, s...
JOHN KEATS
Each Bond-street buck conceits, unhappy elf; He shows his clothes! alas! he shows himself. O...
JOHN KEATS
I wish I could say Tom was any better. His identity presses upon me so all day that I am obliged to ...
JOHN KEATS
A poet is the most unpoetical of anything in existence, because he has no identity - he is continual...
JOHN KEATS
Their smiles, / Wan as primroses gathered at midnight / By chilly-fingered Spring.
JOHN KEATS
Where's the cheek that doth not fade, / Too much gazed at?
JOHN KEATS
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;/ And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
JOHN KEATS
I stood tip-toe upon a little hill.
JOHN KEATS
Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips, bidding adieu
JOHN KEATS
I do think better of womankind than to suppose they care whether Mister John Keats five feet high li...
JOHN KEATS
Where's the face / One would meet in every place? / Where's the voice, however soft, / One would hea...
JOHN KEATS
I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, / Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs.
JOHN KEATS
Pass into nothingness.
JOHN KEATS
A proverb is no proverb to you until life has illustrated it
JOHN KEATS
Once upon a time, the American met the Automobile and fell in love. Unfortunately, this led him into...
JOHN KEATS
On a half-reapèd furrow sound asleep, / Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook / Spares t...
JOHN KEATS
Here lies one whose name was writ in water.
JOHN KEATS
I see a lilly on thy brow, / With anguish moist and fever dew; / And on thy cheek a fading rose / Fa...
JOHN KEATS
Philosophy will clip an angel's wings.
JOHN KEATS
Hard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter.
JOHN KEATS
Pleasure is oft a visitant; but pain / Clings cruelly to us.
JOHN KEATS
Don't be discouraged by a failure. It can be a positive experience. Failure is, in a sense, the high...
JOHN KEATS
And there I shut her wild, wild eyes / With kisses four.
JOHN KEATS
The imagination of a boy is healthy, and the mature imagination of a man is healthy; but there is a ...
JOHN KEATS
O for the gentleness of old Romance, the simple planning of a minstrel's song!
JOHN KEATS
When I behold, upon the night's starred face, / Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance.
JOHN KEATS
I am certain of nothing but the Holiness of the Heart's affections and the Truth of the Imagination
JOHN KEATS
Who would wish to be among the commonplace crowd of the little famous - who are each individually lo...
JOHN KEATS
Mortality / Weighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep.
JOHN KEATS
Parting they seemed to tread upon the air,/ Twin roses by the zephyr blown apart / Only to meet agai...
JOHN KEATS
Point me out the way / To any one particular beauteous star.
JOHN KEATS
Now a soft kiss -- Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss
JOHN KEATS
St Agnes' Eve - Ah, bitter chill it was! / The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; / The hare lim...
JOHN KEATS
Thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, / In some melodious plot / of beechen green, and shadows numb...
JOHN KEATS
I have good reason to be content,
for thank God I can read and
perhaps understand Shakespe...
JOHN KEATS
Give me books, French wine, fruit, fine weather and a little music played out of doors by somebody I...
JOHN KEATS
Fairy Song
Shed no tear! oh, shed no tear!
The flower will bloom another year.
Weep n...
JOHN KEATS