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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?
John Keats
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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
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Poets
Elysium
Fine
Souls
Canary
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Field
Tavern
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Canaries
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Mermaid
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Cavern
More quotes by John Keats
Music's golden tongue Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor.
John Keats
I love your hills and I love your dales, And I love your flocks a-bleating but oh, on the heather to lie together, With both our hearts a-beating!
John Keats
Nothing is finer for the purposes of great productions than a very gradual ripening of the intellectual powers.
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I have good reason to be content, for thank God I can read and perhaps understand Shakespeare to his depths.
John Keats
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.
John Keats
I find I cannot exist without Poetry
John Keats
Like a mermaid in sea-weed, she dreams awake, trembling in her soft and chilly nest.
John Keats
O, sorrow! Why dost borrow Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?
John Keats
Why employ intelligent and highly paid ambassadors and then go and do their work for them? You don't buy a canary and sing yourself.
John Keats
What shocks the virtuous philosopher, delights the chameleon poet.
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I am convinced more and more day by day that fine writing is next to fine doing, the top thing in the world.
John Keats
All writing is a form of prayer.
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All my clear-eyed fish, Golden, or rainbow-sided, or purplish, Vermilion-tail'd, or finn'd with silvery gauze... My charming rod, my potent river spells.
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Four seasons fill the measure of the year there are four seasons in the minds of men.
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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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Now a soft kiss - Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.
John Keats
Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose, Flushing his brow.
John Keats
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.
John Keats
Poetry should be great and unobtrusive, a thing which enters into one's soul, and does not startle it or amaze it with itself, but with its subject.
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My friends should drink a dozen of Claret on my Tomb.
John Keats