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A little noiseless noise among the leaves, Born of the very sigh that silence heaves.
John Keats
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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Leaves
Among
Silence
Born
Littles
Heaves
Little
Noiseless
Sigh
Noise
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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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Scenery is fine - but human nature is finer.
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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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I have so much of you in my heart.
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Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter therefore, ye soft pipes, play on Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd, Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone.
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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
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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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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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