“Four seasons fill the measure of the year; There are four seasons in the mind of Man: He has his lusty Spring,… — John Keats Copy Share Image
Where are the songs of Spring? Aye, where are they? Think not of them; thou has thy music too. — John Keats Copy Share Image
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun. — John Keats Copy Share Image
Four seasons fill the measure of the year; there are four seasons in the minds of men. — John Keats Copy Share Image
Even bees, the little almsmen of spring bowers, know there is richest juice in poison-flowers. — John Keats Copy Share Image
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit… — 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
