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Philosophy will clip an angel's wings, Conquer all mysteries by rule and line, Empty the haunted air, and gnomed mine - Unweave a rainbow.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Mines
Texture
Mine
Mysteries
Air
Rainbow
Empty
Conquer
Mystery
Philosopher
Line
Wings
Philosophy
Angel
Clip
Lines
Rule
Haunted

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O for a life of Sensations rather than of Thoughts!
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O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell, Let it not be among the jumbled heap Of murky buildings: climb with me the steep,-- Nature's observatory--whence the dell, In flowery slopes, its river's crystal swell, May seem a span let me thy vigils keep 'Mongst boughs pavilion'd, where the deer's swift leap Startles the wild bee from the foxglove bell.
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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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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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Poetry should surprise by a fine excess and not by singularity, it should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance.
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There was an awful rainbow once in heaven: We know her woof, her texture she is given In the dull catalogue of common things. Philosophy will clip an angel's wings.
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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.
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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.
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Now a soft kiss - Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.
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was it a vision or a waking dream? Fled is that music--do I wake or sleep?
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Like a mermaid in sea-weed, she dreams awake, trembling in her soft and chilly nest.
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I find I cannot exist without Poetry
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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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I am sailing with thee through the dizzy sky! How beautiful thou art!
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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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When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance.
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Many have original minds who do not think it - they are led away by custom!
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Can death be sleep, when life is but a dream, And scenes of bliss pass as a phantom by? ---On death
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Here lies one whose name was writ in water.
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