You are always new. THe last of your kisses was ever the sweetest; the last smile the brightest; the last movement the… — John Keats Copy Share Image
I never knew before, what such a love as you have made me feel, was; I did not believe in it; my… — John Keats Copy Share Image
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep… — John Keats Copy Share Image
Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art--- Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night And watching, with eternal lids… — John Keats Copy Share Image
If poetry does not come as naturally as leaves to a tree, then it better not come at all. — John Keats Copy Share Image
“Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art-- Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night And watching, with eternal lids… — John Keats Copy Share Image
Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art-- Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night And watching, with eternal lids… — John Keats Copy Share Image
“When shall we pass a day alone? I have had a thousand kisses, for which with my whole soul I thank love… — John Keats Copy Share Image
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever;It's loveliness increase;it will never pass into nothingness;but still will keep a bower quiet for us,and… — John Keats Copy Share Image
There was an awful rainbow once in heaven: We know her woof, her texture; she is given In the dull catalogue of common things.… — John Keats Copy Share Image
“I was never afraid of failure; for I would sooner fail than not be among the greatest.” — John Keats Copy Share Image
Thou wast not born for death, immortal bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In… — John Keats Copy Share Image
Deep in the shady sadness of a vale Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn, Far from the fiery noon and eve's one… — John Keats Copy Share Image
I have been astonished that men could die martyrs for their religion - I have shudder'd at it. I shudder no more. I could… — John Keats Copy Share Image
Dance and Provencal song and sunburnt mirth! On for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene! With… — John Keats Copy Share Image
Many have original minds who do not think it - they are led away by custom! — John Keats Copy Share Image
