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I Cannot Exist Without You. I Am Forgetful Of Everything But Seeing You Again.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Crush
Exist
Seeing
Cannot
Everything
Without
Love
Forgetful

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...I leaped headlong into the Sea, and thereby have become more acquainted with the Soundings, the quicksands, and the rocks, than if I had stayed upon the green shore, and piped a silly pipe, and took tea and comfortable advice.
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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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Their woes gone by, and both to heaven upflown, To bow for gratitude before Jove's throne.
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Now a soft kiss - Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.
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No stir of air was there, Not so much life as on a summer's day Robs not one light seed from the feather'd grass, But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest.
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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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We must repeat the often repeated saying, that it is unworthy a religious man to view an irreligious one either with alarm or aversion, or with any other feeling than regret and hope and brotherly commiseration.
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Everything that reminds me of her goes through me like a spear.
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Dry your eyes O dry your eyes, For I was taught in Paradise To ease my breast of melodies.
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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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Give me books, French wine, fruit, fine weather and a little music played out of doors by somebody I do not know.
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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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Even bees, the little almsmen of spring bowers, know there is richest juice in poison-flowers.
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You are always new to me.
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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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Here lies one whose name was writ in water.
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O let me lead her gently o'er the brook, Watch her half-smiling lips and downward look O let me for one moment touch her wrist Let me one moment to her breathing list And as she leaves me, may she often turn Her fair eyes looking through her locks auburne.
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