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How does the poet speak to men with power, but by being still more a man than they

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Power
Doe
Still
Men
Poet
Speak
Stills

More quotes by John Keats

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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.
John Keats
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You have absorb'd me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving.
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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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All writing is a form of prayer.
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No, no, I'm sure, My restless spirit never could endure To brood so long upon one luxury, Unless it did, though fearfully, espy A hope beyond the shadow of a dream.
John Keats
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A man's life of any worth is a continual allegory, and very few eyes can see the mystery of his life, a life like the scriptures, figurative.
John Keats
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'Tis the witching hour of night, Orbed is the moon and bright. And the stars they glisten, glisten, Seeming with bright eyes to listen- For what listen they?
John Keats
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The poetry of the earth is never dead.
John Keats
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Pensive they sit, and roll their languid eyes.
John Keats
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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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I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart's affections, and the truth of imagination.
John Keats
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Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose, Flushing his brow.
John Keats
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No one can usurp the heights... But those to whom the miseries of the world Are misery, and will not let them rest.
John Keats
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It can be said of him, when he departed he took a Man's life with him. No sounder piece of British manhood was put together in that eighteenth century of Time.
John Keats
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Through buried paths, where sleepy twilight dreams The summer time away.
John Keats
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No sooner had I stepp'd into these pleasures Than I began to think of rhymes and measures: The air that floated by me seem'd to say 'Write! thou wilt never have a better day.
John Keats
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O, sorrow! Why dost borrow Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?
John Keats
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She press'd his hand in slumber so once more He could not help but kiss her and adore.
John Keats
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Four seasons fill the measure of the year there are four seasons in the minds of men.
John Keats
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Nothing is finer for the purposes of great productions than a very gradual ripening of the intellectual powers.
John Keats