When the melancholy fit shall fall Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud, That fosters the droop-headed flowers all, And hides the… — John Keats Copy Share Image
In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity. — John Keats Copy Share Image
How astonishingly does the chance of leaving the world improve a sense of its natural beauties upon us. Like poor Falstaff, although… — John Keats Copy Share Image
Ay, on the shores of darkness there is a light, and precipices show untrodden green; there is a budding morrow in midnight;… — John Keats Copy Share Image
The genius of poetry must work out its own salvation in a man; it cannot be matured by law and precept, but… — John Keats Copy Share Image
Who, of men, can tell That flowers would bloom, or that green fruit would swell To melting pulp, that fish would have… — John Keats Copy Share Image
...I leaped headlong into the Sea, and thereby have become more acquainted with the Soundings, the quicksands, and the rocks, than if… — John Keats Copy Share Image
Young playmates of the rose and daffodil, Be careful ere ye enter in, to fill Your baskets high With fennel green, and… — 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
