Quote

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.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Never
Bird
Cooling
Sun
Hedge
Poetry
Faint
Dead
Birds
Tree
Hide
Voice
Hot
Running
Trees
Mead
Earth
Environmental
Grasshoppers

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Love in a hut, with water and a crust, Is - Love, forgive us! - cinders, ashes, dust.
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Darkling I listen and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Called him soft names in many a muse' d rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy!
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Load every rift with ore.
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To feel forever its soft fall and swell, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever-or else swoon in death.
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There is an electric fire in human nature tending to purify - so that among these human creatures there is continually some birth of new heroism. The pity is that we must wonder at it, as we should at finding a pearl in rubbish.
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And shade the violets, That they may bind the moss in leafy nets.
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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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You are always new to me.
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Music's golden tongue Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor.
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The poetry of the earth is never dead.
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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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