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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
Noise
Leaves
Among
Silence
Born
Littles
Heaves
Little
Noiseless
Sigh

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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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A man should have the fine point of his soul taken off to become fit for this world.
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O, sorrow! Why dost borrow Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?
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The genius of Shakespeare was an innate university.
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Nothing ever becomes real till it is experienced.
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Now a soft kiss - Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.
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Souls of poets dead and gone, What Elysium have ye known, Happy field or mossy cavern, Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern? Have ye tippled drink more fine Than mine host's Canary wine?
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Real are the dreams of Gods, and smoothly pass Their pleasures in a long immortal dream.
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O fret not after knowledge - I have none, and yet my song comes native with the warmth. O fret not after knowledge - I have none, and yet the Evening listens.
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Pensive they sit, and roll their languid eyes.
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So, when dark thoughts my boding spirit shroud, Sweet Hope! celestial influence round me shed Waving thy silver pinions o'er my head.
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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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Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, Alone and palely loitering?
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Everything that reminds me of her goes through me like a spear.
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Let us open our leaves like a flower, and be passive and receptive.
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How beautiful, if sorrow had not made Sorrow more beautiful than Beauty's self.
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