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I will imagine you Venus tonight and pray, pray, pray to your star like a Heathen.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Like
Heathen
Venus
Tonight
Pray
Star
Praying
Imagine
Stars

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But let me see thee stoop from heaven on wings That fill the sky with silver glitterings!
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In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity.
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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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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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I am sailing with thee through the dizzy sky! How beautiful thou art!
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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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Through buried paths, where sleepy twilight dreams The summer time away.
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I myself am pursuing the same instinctive course as the veriest human animal you can think of I am, however young, writing at random straining at particles of light in the midst of a great darkness without knowing the bearing of any one assertion, of any one opinion. Yet may I not in this be free from sin?
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A thing of beauty is a joy forever.
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And how they kist each other's tremulous eyes.
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That queen of secrecy, the violet.
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She press'd his hand in slumber so once more He could not help but kiss her and adore.
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I have so much of you in my heart.
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Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose, Flushing his brow.
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There is a budding tomorrow in midnight.
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Love in a hut, with water and a crust, Is - Love, forgive us! - cinders, ashes, dust.
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O fret not after knowledge - I have none, and yet my song comes native with the warmth. O fret not after knowledge - I have none, and yet the Evening listens.
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That which is creative must create itself.
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I Cannot Exist Without You. I Am Forgetful Of Everything But Seeing You Again.
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The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!
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