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 Copy Share Image
I stood tip-toe upon a little hill, The air was cooling, and so very still, That the sweet buds which with a modest pride Pull droopingly, in slanting curve aside, Their scantly leaved, and finely tapering stems, Had not yet… — 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
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
“I was never afraid of failure; for I would sooner fail than not be among the greatest.” — John Keats Copy Share
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
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
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
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
When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou… — John Keats Copy Share
