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
Poetry
Faint
Dead
Birds
Tree
Hide
Voice
Hot
Running
Trees
Mead
Earth
Environmental
Grasshoppers
Never
Bird
Cooling
Sun
Hedge

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There is a budding tomorrow in midnight.
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Time, that aged nurse, Rocked me to patience.
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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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No one can usurp the heights... But those to whom the miseries of the world Are misery, and will not let them rest.
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Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, Alone and palely loitering?
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Many have original minds who do not think it - they are led away by custom!
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I am convinced more and more day by day that fine writing is next to fine doing, the top thing in the world.
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All my clear-eyed fish, Golden, or rainbow-sided, or purplish, Vermilion-tail'd, or finn'd with silvery gauze... My charming rod, my potent river spells.
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