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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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... the open sky sits upon our senses like a sapphire crown - the Air is our robe of state - the Earth is our throne, and the Sea a mighty minstrel playing before it.
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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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Severn - I - lift me up - I am dying - I shall die easy don't be frightened - be firm, and thank God it has come.
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But the rose leaves herself upon the brier, For winds to kiss and grateful bees to feed.
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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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We have woven a web, you and I, attached to this world but a separate world of our own invention.
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The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide.
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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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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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The uttered part of a man's life, let us always repeat, bears to the unuttered, unconscious part a small unknown proportion. He himself never knows it, much less do others.
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Open afresh your rounds of starry folds, Ye ardent Marigolds.
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Let us open our leaves like a flower, and be passive and receptive.
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A drainless shower Of light is poesy: 'tis the supreme of power 'Tis might half slumbering on its own right arm.
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How sad it is when a luxurious imagination is obliged in self defense to deaden its delicacy in vulgarity, and riot in things attainable that it may not have leisure to go mad after things that are not.
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O, sorrow! Why dost borrow Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?
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I am sailing with thee through the dizzy sky! How beautiful thou art!
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Where are the songs of Spring? Aye, where are they? Think not of them thou has thy music too.
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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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I don't need the stars in the night I found my treasure All I need is you by my side so shine forever
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All writing is a form of prayer.
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