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How beautiful, if sorrow had not made Sorrow more beautiful than Beauty's self.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Self
Made
Sorrow
Beauty
Beautiful

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A drainless shower Of light is poesy: 'tis the supreme of power 'Tis might half slumbering on its own right arm.
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I love your hills and I love your dales, And I love your flocks a-bleating but oh, on the heather to lie together, With both our hearts a-beating!
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The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft and gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
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Scenery is fine - but human nature is finer.
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My love is selfish. I cannot breathe without you.
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So rainbow-sided, touch'd with miseries, She seem'd, at once, some penanced lady elf, Some demon's mistress, or the demon's self.
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The thought, the deadly thought of solitude.
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A moment's thought is passion's passing knell.
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Their woes gone by, and both to heaven upflown, To bow for gratitude before Jove's throne.
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I am in that temper that if I were under water I would scarcely kick to come to the top.
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Let us open our leaves like a flower, and be passive and receptive.
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Stop and consider! life is but a day
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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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I will clamber through the clouds and exist.
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I have been astonished that men could die martyrs for their religion-- I have shuddered at it, I shudder no more. I could be martyred for my religion. Love is my religion and I could die for that. I could die for you. My Creed is Love and you are its only tenet.
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How sad it is when a luxurious imagination is obliged in self defense to deaden its delicacy in vulgarity, and riot in things attainable that it may not have leisure to go mad after things that are not.
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The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide.
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With a great poet the sense of Beauty overcomes every other consideration, or rather obliterates all consideration.
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Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards, And seal the hushed Casket of my Soul.
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I shall soon be laid in the quiet grave--thank God for the quiet grave--O! I can feel the cold earth upon me--the daisies growing over me--O for this quiet--it will be my first.
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