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But the rose leaves herself upon the brier, For winds to kiss and grateful bees to feed.

John Keats

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John Keats
Age: 25 †
Born: 1795
Born: October 31
Died: 1821
Died: February 23
Judge-Rapporteur
Physician
Poet
Kiss
Leaves
Kissing
Rose
Grateful
Wind
Winds
Upon
Bees
Feed

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What shocks the virtuous philosopher, delights the chameleon poet.
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Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time.
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She press'd his hand in slumber so once more He could not help but kiss her and adore.
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--then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.
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The creature has a purpose, and his eyes are bright with it.
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...yes, in spite of all, Some shape of beauty moves away the pall From out dark spirits.
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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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Dancing music, music sad, Both together, sane and mad.
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My love is selfish. I cannot breathe without you.
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Load every rift with ore.
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Then felt I like some watcher of the skies when a new planet swims into his ken.
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Pensive they sit, and roll their languid eyes.
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O latest born and loveliest vision far of all Olympus' faded hierarchy.
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The excellence of every Art is its intensity.
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Everything that reminds me of her goes through me like a spear.
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