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Parting they seemed to tread upon the air, Twin roses by the zephyr blown apart Only to meet again more close.
John Keats
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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Air
Twin
Flower
Parting
Meet
Blown
Close
Roses
Upon
Twins
Apart
Seemed
Zephyr
Rose
Tread
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Its better to lose your ego to the One you Love than to lose the One you Love to your Ego
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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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Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards, And seal the hushed Casket of my Soul.
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A poet without love were a physical and metaphysical impossibility.
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To one who has been long in city pent, ’Tis very sweet to look into the fair And open face of heaven, — to breathe a prayer Full in the smile of the blue firmament.
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I will imagine you Venus tonight and pray, pray, pray to your star like a Heathen.
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The Public - a thing I cannot help looking upon as an enemy, and which I cannot address without feelings of hostility.
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What is there in thee, Moon! That thou should'st move My heart so potently?
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There is a budding tomorrow in midnight.
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I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days - three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.
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Dancing music, music sad, Both together, sane and mad.
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Ay, on the shores of darkness there is a light, and precipices show untrodden green there is a budding morrow in midnight there is triple sight in blindness keen.
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It is a flaw In happiness to see beyond our bourn, - It forces us in summer skies to mourn, It spoils the singing of the nightingale.
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I have been astonished that men could die martyrs for their religion-- I have shuddered at it, I shudder no more. I could be martyred for my religion. Love is my religion and I could die for that. I could die for you. My Creed is Love and you are its only tenet.
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O aching time! O moments big as years!
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one of the most mysterious of semi-speculations is, one would suppose, that of one Mind's imagining into another
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Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose, Flushing his brow.
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I see a lily on thy brow, With anguish moist and fever dew And on thy cheek a fading rose Fast withereth too.
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