Quote

Young playmates of the rose and daffodil, Be careful ere ye enter in, to fill Your baskets high With fennel green, and balm, and golden pines Savory latter-mint, and columbines.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Golden
Daffodil
Careful
Pines
Rose
Balm
Green
Mint
High
Baskets
Young
Fill
Playmates
Enter
Columbine
Latter
Savory

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There is a budding tomorrow in midnight.
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To bear all naked truths, And to envisage circumstance, all calm, That is the top of sovereignty
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Four seasons fill the measure of the year there are four seasons in the minds of men.
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There is nothing stable in the world uproar's your only music.
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You are always new. The last of your kisses was even the sweetest the last smile the brightest the last movement the gracefullest.
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Load every rift with ore.
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Open afresh your rounds of starry folds, Ye ardent Marigolds.
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Call the world if you please the vale of soul-making. Then you will find out the use of the world.
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The roaring of the wind is my wife and the stars through the window pane are my children. The mighty abstract idea I have of beauty in all things stifles the more divided and minute domestic happiness.
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My love is selfish. I cannot breathe without you.
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O for a life of Sensations rather than of Thoughts!
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... Who alive can say 'Thou art no Poet - mayst not tell thy dreams'? Since every man whose soul is not a clod Hath visions, and would speak, if he had loved, And been well nurtured in his mother tongue.
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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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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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Talking of Pleasure, this moment I was writing with one hand, and with the other holding to my Mouth a Nectarine - how good how fine. It went down all pulpy, slushy, oozy, all its delicious embonpoint melted down my throat like a large, beatified Strawberry.
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Blessed is the healthy nature it is the coherent, sweetly co-operative, not incoherent, self-distracting, self-destructive one!
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If I should die, I have left no immortal work behind me — nothing to make my friends proud of my memory — but I have loved the principle of beauty in all things, and if I had had time I would have made myself remembered.
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Even bees, the little almsmen of spring bowers, know there is richest juice in poison-flowers.
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