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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.
John Keats
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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Star
Splendour
Like
Watching
Steadfast
Eternal
Lone
Stars
Hung
Night
Bright
Apart
Lids
Art
Thou
Aloft
Nature
Patient
Sleepless
Would
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The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft and gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
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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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When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance.
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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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Dancing music, music sad, Both together, sane and mad.
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I Cannot Exist Without You. I Am Forgetful Of Everything But Seeing You Again.
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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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I shall soon be laid in the quiet grave--thank God for the quiet grave--O! I can feel the cold earth upon me--the daisies growing over me--O for this quiet--it will be my first.
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How does the poet speak to men with power, but by being still more a man than they
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Even bees, the little almsmen of spring bowers, know there is richest juice in poison-flowers.
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Whatever the imagination seizes as Beauty must be truth -whether it existed before or not
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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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Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose, Flushing his brow.
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Give me books, French wine, fruit, fine weather and a little music played out of doors by somebody I do not know.
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And how they kist each other's tremulous eyes.
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I never can feel certain of any truth, but from a clear perception of its beauty.
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The Public - a thing I cannot help looking upon as an enemy, and which I cannot address without feelings of hostility.
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I will imagine you Venus tonight and pray, pray, pray to your star like a Heathen.
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You have absorb'd me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving.
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Blessed is the healthy nature it is the coherent, sweetly co-operative, not incoherent, self-distracting, self-destructive one!
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