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Can death be sleep, when life is but a dream, And scenes of bliss pass as a phantom by? ---On death

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Bliss
Pass
Scene
Sleep
Death
Dream
Phantom
Life
Phantoms
Scenes

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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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A little noiseless noise among the leaves, Born of the very sigh that silence heaves.
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Love in a hut, with water and a crust, Is - Love, forgive us! - cinders, ashes, dust.
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Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips, bidding adieu
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Dancing music, music sad, Both together, sane and mad.
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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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I wish I was either in your arms full of faith, or that a Thunder bolt would strike me.
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I am in that temper that if I were under water I would scarcely kick to come to the top.
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The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide.
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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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Sometimes goldfinches one by one will drop From low hung branches little space they stop But sip, and twitter, and their feathers sleek Then off at once, as in a wanton freak: Or perhaps, to show their black, and golden wings Pausing upon their yellow flutterings.
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--then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.
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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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