Search Results for: john keats

< Return to All John Keats Women, Wine, and Snuff Give me women, wine and snuff Until I cry out «hold, enough!» You may do so sans objection Till the day of resurrection; For bless my beard they aye shall be My beloved Trinity. -John Keats Enjoy Artistic Representations of “Women, Wine, and Snuff” by […]

< Return to All John Keats Where By Ye Going, You Devon Maid When I have fears that I may cease to be Before my pen has glean’d my teeming brain, Before high pil`d books, in charact’ry, Hold like rich garners the full-ripen’d grain; When I behold, upon the night’s starr’d face, Huge cloudy symbols […]

< Return to All John Keats To Ailsa Rock Hearken, thou craggy ocean pyramid! Give answer from thy voice, the sea-fowl’s screams! When were thy shoulders mantled in huge streams! When, from the sun, was thy broad forehead hid? How long is ‘t since the mighty power bid Thee heave to airy sleep from fathom […]

< Return to All John Keats To a Friend Who Sent Me Some Roses As late I rambled in the happy fields, What time the sky-lark shakes the tremulous dew From his lush clover covert;—when anew Adventurous knights take up their dinted shields: I saw the sweetest flower wild nature yields, A fresh-blown musk-rose; ’twas […]

< Return to All John Keats ‘Tis the Witching Time of Night ‘Tis ” the witching time of night”, Orbed is the moon and bright, And the stars they glisten, glisten, Seeming with bright eyes to listen — For what listen they? For a song and for a charm, See they glisten in alarm, And […]

< Return to All John Keats Think of it not Sweet One Think not of it, sweet one, so; Give it not a tear; Sigh thou mayest, but bid it go Any, any where. Do not look so sad, sweet one, Sad and fadingly; Shed one drop then–It is gone– Oh! ’twas born to die. […]

< Return to All John Keats The Human Seasons Four Seasons fill the measure of the year; There are four seasons in the mind of man: He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear Takes in all beauty with an easy span: He has his Summer, when luxuriously Spring’s honied cud of youthful thought he […]

< Return to All John Keats The Day is Gone (and All Its Sweets) The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone! Sweet voice, sweet lips, soft hand, and softer breast, Warm breath, light whisper, tender semitone, Bright eyes, accomplished shape, and lang’rous waist! Faded the flower and all its budded charms, Faded […]

< Return to All John Keats Sweet Is the Greeting of Eyes Sweet, sweet is the greeting of eyes, And sweet is the voice in its greeting, When adieus have grown old and goodbyes Fade away where old Time is retreating. Warm the nerve of a welcoming hand, And earnest a kiss on the brow, […]

< Return to All John Keats On the Grasshopper and Cricket The poetry of earth is never dead: When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead; That is the Grasshopper’s—he takes the lead In summer luxury,—he […]

< Return to All John Keats On Leaving Some Friends at an Early Hour Give me a golden pen, and let me lean On heap’d up flowers, in regions clear, and far; Bring me a tablet whiter than a star, Or hand of hymning angel, when ’tis seen The silver strings of heavenly harp atween: […]

< Return to All John Keats Ode to Psyche O Gooddess! hear these tunealess numbers, wrung By sweet enforcement and remembrance dear, And pardon that thy secrets should be sung Even into thine own soft-conchèd ear: Surely I dream’d to-day, or did I see The wingèd Psyche with awaken’d eyes? I wander’d in a forest […]

< Return to All John Keats Ode on Melancholy No, no! go not to Lethe, neither twist Wolf’s-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine; Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kist By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine; Make not your rosary of yew-berries, Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be Your mournful Psyche, nor […]

< Return to All John Keats Sharing Eve’s Apple O blush not so! O blush not so! Or I shall think you knowing; And if you smile the blushing while, Then maidenheads are going. There’s a blush for want, and a blush for shan’t, And a blush for having done it; There’s a blush for […]

< Return to All John Keats Robin Hood (To a Friend) No! those days are gone away And their hours are old and gray, And their minutes buried all Under the down-trodden pall Of the leaves of many years: Many times have winter’s shears, Frozen North, and chilling East, Sounded tempests to the feast Of […]

< Return to All John Keats Over the Hill and Over the Dale Over the hill and over the dale, And over the bourn to Dawlish — Where gingerbread wives have a scanty sale And gingerbread nuts are smallish. Rantipole Betty she ran down a hill And kicked up her petticoats fairly; Says I’ll be […]

< Return to All John Keats Modern Love And what is love? It is a doll dress’d up For idleness to cosset, nurse, and dandle; A thing of soft misnomers, so divine That silly youth doth think to make itself Divine by loving, and so goes on Yawning and doting a whole summer long, Till […]

< Return to All John Keats Meg Merrilies Old Meg she was a Gipsy, And liv’d upon the Moors: Her bed it was the brown heath turf, And her house was out of doors. Her apples were swart blackberries, Her currants pods o’ broom; Her wine was dew of the wild white rose, Her book […]

< Return to All John Keats In Drear Nighted December In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne’er remember Their green felicity: The north cannot undo them, With a sleety whistle through them; Nor frozen thawings glue them From budding at the prime. In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy brook, Thy […]

< Return to All John Keats Imitation of Spenser Now Morning from her orient chamber came, And her first footsteps touch’d a verdant hill; Crowning its lawny crest with amber flame, Silv’ring the untainted gushes of its rill; Which, pure from mossy beds, did down distill, And after parting beds of simple flowers, By many […]