John Keats

Ode on a Grecian Urn by John Keats

Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness,Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,Sylvan historian, who canst thus expressA flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:What leaf-fring’d legend haunts about thy shapeOf deities or mortals, or of both,In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?What mad pursuit? What struggle to …

Ode on a Grecian Urn by John Keats Read More »

To Autumn by John Keats

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;Conspiring with him how to load and blessWith fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shellsWith a sweet kernel; to set budding more,And …

To Autumn by John Keats Read More »

Ode on Indolence by John Keats

‘They toil not, neither do they spin.’ One morn before me were three figures seen,With bowèd necks, and joinèd hands, side-faced;And one behind the other stepp’d serene,In placid sandals, and in white robes graced;They pass’d, like figures on a marble urn,When shifted round to see the other side;They came again; as when the urn once …

Ode on Indolence by John Keats Read More »

La Belle Dame sans Merci by John Keats

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,Alone and palely loitering?The sedge has withered from the lake,And no birds sing. O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,So haggard and so woe-begone?The squirrel’s granary is full,And the harvest’s done. I see a lily on thy brow,With anguish moist and fever-dew,And on thy cheeks a fading roseFast withereth too. I …

La Belle Dame sans Merci by John Keats Read More »

Ode on Melancholy by John Keats

No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twistWolf’s-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss’dBy nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine;Make not your rosary of yew-berries,Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth beYour mournful Psyche, nor the downy owlA partner in your sorrow’s mysteries;For shade to shade will come too drowsily,And …

Ode on Melancholy by John Keats Read More »

The Last Sonnet by John Keats

Bright Star, would I were steadfast as thou art– Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night, And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like Nature’s patient sleepless Eremite, The moving waters at their priest-like task Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores, Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask Of snow upon the mountains and …

The Last Sonnet by John Keats Read More »

On the Sea by John Keats

It keeps eternal whisperings around Desolate shores, and with its mighty swell Gluts twice ten thousand Caverns, till the spell Of Hecate leaves them their old shadowy sound. Often ’tis in such gentle temper found, That scarcely will the very smallest shell Be moved for days from where it sometime fell. When last the winds …

On the Sea by John Keats Read More »