Quote

I see a lily on thy brow, With anguish moist and fever dew And on thy cheek a fading rose Fast withereth too.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Cheeks
Brow
Fast
Dew
Rose
Brows
Lilies
Fading
Cheek
Fever
Moist
Anguish
Lily

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'Tis the witching hour of night, Orbed is the moon and bright. And the stars they glisten, glisten, Seeming with bright eyes to listen- For what listen they?
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A little noiseless noise among the leaves, Born of the very sigh that silence heaves.
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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.
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Then felt I like some watcher of the skies when a new planet swims into his ken.
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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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The roaring of the wind is my wife and the stars through the window pane are my children. The mighty abstract idea I have of beauty in all things stifles the more divided and minute domestic happiness.
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Call the world if you please the vale of soul-making. Then you will find out the use of the world.
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Ay, on the shores of darkness there is a light, and precipices show untrodden green there is a budding morrow in midnight there is triple sight in blindness keen.
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Can death be sleep, when life is but a dream, And scenes of bliss pass as a phantom by? ---On death
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With a great poet the sense of Beauty overcomes every other consideration, or rather obliterates all consideration.
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To feel forever its soft fall and swell, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever-or else swoon in death.
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Faded the flower and all its budded charms,Faded the sight of beauty from my eyes,Faded the shape of beauty from my arms,Faded the voice, warmth, whiteness, paradise!Vanishd unseasonably
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Now a soft kiss - Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.
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Pensive they sit, and roll their languid eyes.
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The opinion I have of the generality of women--who appear to me as children to whom I would rather give a sugar plum than my time, forms a barrier against matrimony which I rejoice in.
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That queen of secrecy, the violet.
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Parting they seemed to tread upon the air, Twin roses by the zephyr blown apart Only to meet again more close.
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Young playmates of the rose and daffodil, Be careful ere ye enter in, to fill Your baskets high With fennel green, and balm, and golden pines Savory latter-mint, and columbines.
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Shed no tear - O, shed no tear! The flower will bloom another year. Weep no more - O, weep no more! Young buds sleep in the root's white core.
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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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