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When I have fears that I may ceace to be, Before my pen has gleaned my teaming brain.
John Keats
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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Teaming
Gleaned
Pens
Fears
Brain
Death
May
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I have so much of you in my heart.
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Open afresh your rounds of starry folds, Ye ardent Marigolds.
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You speak of Lord Byron and me there is this great difference between us. He describes what he sees I describe what I imagine. Mine is the hardest task.
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I never can feel certain of any truth, but from a clear perception of its beauty.
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Let us away, my love, with happy speed There are no ears to hear, or eyes to see, - Drown'd all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead. Awake! arise! my love and fearless be, For o'er the southern moors I have a home for thee.
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The poetry of the earth is never dead.
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... Who alive can say 'Thou art no Poet - mayst not tell thy dreams'? Since every man whose soul is not a clod Hath visions, and would speak, if he had loved, And been well nurtured in his mother tongue.
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I am sailing with thee through the dizzy sky! How beautiful thou art!
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I would jump down Etna for any public good - but I hate a mawkish popularity.
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Nothing ever becomes real till it is experienced.
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I find I cannot exist without Poetry
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Their woes gone by, and both to heaven upflown, To bow for gratitude before Jove's throne.
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No, no, I'm sure, My restless spirit never could endure To brood so long upon one luxury, Unless it did, though fearfully, espy A hope beyond the shadow of a dream.
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I see a lily on thy brow, With anguish moist and fever dew And on thy cheek a fading rose Fast withereth too.
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I will imagine you Venus tonight and pray, pray, pray to your star like a Heathen.
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There is a budding tomorrow in midnight.
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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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It appears to me that almost any man may like the spider spin from his own inwards his own airy citadel.
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Its better to lose your ego to the One you Love than to lose the One you Love to your Ego
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No sooner had I stepp'd into these pleasures Than I began to think of rhymes and measures: The air that floated by me seem'd to say 'Write! thou wilt never have a better day.
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