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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
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Shall
Woe
Beauty
Midst
Age
Thou
Truth
Remain
Earth
Generation
Need
Waste
Needs
Generations
Men
Friend
Shalt

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How beautiful, if sorrow had not made Sorrow more beautiful than Beauty's self.
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Poetry should surprise by a fine excess and not by singularity, it should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance.
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There is nothing stable in the world uproar's your only music.
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And how they kist each other's tremulous eyes.
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An extensive knowledge is needful to thinking people-it takes away the heat and fever and helps, by widening speculation, to ease the burden of the mystery.
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Severn - I - lift me up - I am dying - I shall die easy don't be frightened - be firm, and thank God it has come.
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And there shall be for thee all soft delight That shadowy thought can win, A bright torch, and a casement ope at night, To let the warm Love in!
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Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time.
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There was an awful rainbow once in heaven: We know her woof, her texture she is given In the dull catalogue of common things. Philosophy will clip an angel's wings.
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Darkling I listen and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Called him soft names in many a muse' d rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy!
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Dry your eyes O dry your eyes, For I was taught in Paradise To ease my breast of melodies.
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O aching time! O moments big as years!
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I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart's affections, and the truth of imagination.
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A poet is the most unpoetical of anything in existence because he has no identity he is continually informing and filling some other body.
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A drainless shower Of light is poesy: 'tis the supreme of power 'Tis might half slumbering on its own right arm.
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