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In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Branches
Green
Tree
Happiness
Happy
Remember
Drear
Felicity
December

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Who would wish to be among the commonplace crowd of the little famous - who are each individually lost in a throng made up of themselves?
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Shed no tear - O, shed no tear! The flower will bloom another year. Weep no more - O, weep no more! Young buds sleep in the root's white core.
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Some say the world is a vale of tears, I say it is a place of soul-making.
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Real are the dreams of Gods, and smoothly pass Their pleasures in a long immortal dream.
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Where are the songs of Spring? Aye, where are they? Think not of them thou has thy music too.
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Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips, bidding adieu
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The imagination of a boy is healthy, and the mature imagination of a man is healthy but there is a space of life between, in which the soul is in a ferment, the character undecided, the way of life uncertain, the ambition thick-sighted: thence proceeds mawkishness.
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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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The thought, the deadly thought of solitude.
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The poetry of earth is never dead When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, And hide I cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead.
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