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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!
John Keats
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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Love
Bright
Life
Delight
Thee
Warm
Casement
Shall
Shadowy
Winning
Torch
Night
Torches
Thought
Soft
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The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft and gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
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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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O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell, Let it not be among the jumbled heap Of murky buildings: climb with me the steep,-- Nature's observatory--whence the dell, In flowery slopes, its river's crystal swell, May seem a span let me thy vigils keep 'Mongst boughs pavilion'd, where the deer's swift leap Startles the wild bee from the foxglove bell.
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Load every rift with ore.
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There is an awful warmth about my heart like a load of immortality.
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...yes, in spite of all, Some shape of beauty moves away the pall From out dark spirits.
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When I have fears that I may ceace to be, Before my pen has gleaned my teaming brain.
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I have two luxuries to brood over in my walks, your loveliness and the hour of my death. O that I could have possession of them both in the same minute.
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O for a life of Sensations rather than of Thoughts!
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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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Let us open our leaves like a flower, and be passive and receptive.
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Call the world if you please the vale of soul-making. Then you will find out the use of the world.
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What is there in thee, Moon! That thou should'st move My heart so potently?
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Knowledge enormous makes a God of me. Names, deeds, gray legends, dire events, rebellions, Majesties, sovran voices, agonies, Creations and destroyings, all at once Pour into the wide hollows of my brain, And deify me, as if some blithe wine Or bright elixir peerless I had drunk, And so become immortal.
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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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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.
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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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My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains/ My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk.
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A moment's thought is passion's passing knell.
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