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
Lilies
Fading
Cheek
Fever
Moist
Anguish
Lily
Cheeks
Brow
Fast
Dew
Rose
Brows

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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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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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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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O let me lead her gently o'er the brook, Watch her half-smiling lips and downward look O let me for one moment touch her wrist Let me one moment to her breathing list And as she leaves me, may she often turn Her fair eyes looking through her locks auburne.
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Music's golden tongue Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor.
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O latest born and loveliest vision far of all Olympus' faded hierarchy.
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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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Open afresh your rounds of starry folds, Ye ardent Marigolds.
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To stay youthful, stay useful.
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O magic sleep! O comfortable bird, That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind Till it is hush'd and smooth!
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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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There is nothing stable in the world uproar's your only music.
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You are always new. The last of your kisses was even the sweetest the last smile the brightest the last movement the gracefullest.
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Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art-- Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite.
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So rainbow-sided, touch'd with miseries, She seem'd, at once, some penanced lady elf, Some demon's mistress, or the demon's self.
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We have woven a web, you and I, attached to this world but a separate world of our own invention.
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It ought to come like the leaves to the trees, or it better not come at all.
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Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music:--do I wake or sleep?
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It is a flaw In happiness to see beyond our bourn, - It forces us in summer skies to mourn, It spoils the singing of the nightingale.
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The only means of strengthening one's intellect is to make up one's mind about nothing, to let the mind be a thoroughfare for all thoughts.
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