Quote

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.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Looks
Full
Fairs
Long
Prayer
Breathe
Men
Open
Fair
Face
Smile
Heaven
Blue
Faces
City
Pent
Nature
Sweet
Firmament
Look
Cities
Breathing

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I myself am pursuing the same instinctive course as the veriest human animal you can think of I am, however young, writing at random straining at particles of light in the midst of a great darkness without knowing the bearing of any one assertion, of any one opinion. Yet may I not in this be free from sin?
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In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy brook, Thy bubblings ne'er remember Apollo's summer look But with a sweet forgetting, They stay their crystal fretting, Never, never petting About the frozen time.
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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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You are always new to me.
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O magic sleep! O comfortable bird, That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind Till it is hush'd and smooth!
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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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Severn - I - lift me up - I am dying - I shall die easy don't be frightened - be firm, and thank God it has come.
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A man should have the fine point of his soul taken off to become fit for this world.
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I do think better of womankind than to suppose they care whether Mister John Keats five feet high likes them or not.
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Dry your eyes O dry your eyes, For I was taught in Paradise To ease my breast of melodies.
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It ought to come like the leaves to the trees, or it better not come at all.
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She press'd his hand in slumber so once more He could not help but kiss her and adore.
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O for a life of Sensations rather than of Thoughts!
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My friends should drink a dozen of Claret on my Tomb.
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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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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.
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The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide.
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How does the poet speak to men with power, but by being still more a man than they
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Sometimes goldfinches one by one will drop From low hung branches little space they stop But sip, and twitter, and their feathers sleek Then off at once, as in a wanton freak: Or perhaps, to show their black, and golden wings Pausing upon their yellow flutterings.
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I came to feel how far above All fancy, pride, and fickle maidenhood, All earthly pleasure, all imagined good, Was the warm tremble of a devout kiss.
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