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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
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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Heart
Heather
Love
Heathers
Flocks
Beating
Hills
Hearts
Lying
Together
Bleating
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Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips, bidding adieu
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An extensive knowledge is needful to thinking people-it takes away the heat and fever and helps, by widening speculation, to ease the burden of the mystery.
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Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget.
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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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A moment's thought is passion's passing knell.
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O for the gentleness of old Romance, the simple planning of a minstrel's song!
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There is an awful warmth about my heart like a load of immortality.
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So rainbow-sided, touch'd with miseries, She seem'd, at once, some penanced lady elf, Some demon's mistress, or the demon's self.
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Nothing ever becomes real till it is experienced.
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Sweet are the pleasures that to verse belong, And doubly sweet a brotherhood in song.
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O, sorrow! Why dost borrow Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?
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You are always new. The last of your kisses was even the sweetest the last smile the brightest the last movement the gracefullest.
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And there shall be for thee all soft delight That shadowy thought can win, A bright torch, and a casement ope at night, To let the warm Love in!
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Now a soft kiss - Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.
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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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The excellence of every Art is its intensity.
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Then felt I like some watcher of the skies when a new planet swims into his ken.
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