John Keats

(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821 / London, England)

Comments about John Keats

  • Rookie Vineet Chhikara (5/27/2013 1:39:00 AM)

    Have a look at my poems... and rate them... i am sure you will like them.... :)

    51 person liked.
    55 person did not like.
  • Rookie - 0 Points Shama Bukhari (9/17/2012 8:23:00 AM)

    Though wast born for death....

  • Rookie - 0 Points Shama Bukhari (9/17/2012 8:22:00 AM)

    though wast not born for death so truly said..

  • Rookie - 0 Points Shama Bukhari (9/17/2012 8:22:00 AM)

    though wast not born for death so truly said..

  • Rookie - 0 Points Shama Bukhari (9/17/2012 8:16:00 AM)

    though Wast born for death...... Keats! You died so early..... A honest and truthful poet needs thousand years to display his or her vision.... All his work is commendable.....

  • Rookie Ryan Walker (8/17/2012 10:57:00 PM)

    I can't remember who said it, but someone said Keats' To Autumn is the most anthologized poem in the English language. I personally understand why, it is a break from the traditional view of Autumn prevalent in literature, that it is a time of death and misery, awaiting Winter. Instead, he writes it is the time of Harvest, from a long Summer, preparing for the Winter. After all, Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find thee sitting, carless on a granary floor.

  • Rookie Christian Torres (7/5/2012 9:41:00 PM)

    When thy chest did plummet its airy last
    and thy sweet brow fell forever 'pon thine eye
    a fairy gleam from each leafy nook was stolen
    and each breathing thing did expel a broken sigh.

    Thy azure pall, ethereal in the wind
    did surely catch some glint of weeping sky
    as ye were laid in the bosom of the Earth
    and bade the unborn leaves goodbye.

    Are ye transformed into thine own Endymion?
    Do ye wander the chiming isles of Greece?
    Or the pathways of Heaven, hand in hand with Milton
    Thy head laid on pillows of the softest golden fleece?

    For the toil of thy precious heart
    shall be a joy forever.
    Ne'er to be by a hateful word
    or fickle centuries severed.

    Keats remains alive and blushing in the truest and tenderest of hearts. Treasure him. Allow his words to soften and enlighten your soul.

  • Rookie H. Reese (7/5/2012 11:35:00 AM)

    Keats was an inspired man who wrote for Love and Truth. Those two things should be at the center of all our work. Go to Google, search The Truth Contest, click the first result, begin reading The Present

  • Rookie Funny Rajj (6/19/2012 2:08:00 AM)

    Well i am honored to write a comment on John Keats... His poems are so heart touching, simply love the feelings in the poem. I just stumbled upon this site which has funny poems, hope you guys will like it...

    http: //www.thefunnyquotessayings.com/funny-poems-by-not-so-famous-poets/

  • Veteran Poet - 1,276 Points Shahzia Batool (2/17/2012 9:25:00 AM)

    TO KEATS!
    'thou wast not born for death, Immortal Bird! '
    now live eternally
    in worthy world,
    in poetic realm.
    thy words impress the soul,
    and overwhelm
    our each and every thought...
    thou wast a singing Bird,
    for us thou always brought
    enchanting, rhythmic words...
    now do a different job:
    remove the veil of gloom
    from caring, thoughtful mind,
    do not intend to sob
    in sad, indolent mood.
    try not to close thy eyes
    pain is the part of life-
    so why escape the world?
    thou wast not born for death
    IMMORTAL BIRD!


    Shahzia Batool

Best Poem of John Keats

A Thing Of Beauty (Endymion)

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its lovliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkn'd ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon, ...

Read the full of A Thing Of Beauty (Endymion)

To My Brothers

Small, busy flames play through the fresh laid coals,
And their faint cracklings o'er our silence creep
Like whispers of the household gods that keep
A gentle empire o'er fraternal souls.
And while, for rhymes, I search around the poles,
Your eyes are fix d, as in poetic sleep,
Upon the lore so voluble and deep,
That aye at fall of night our care condoles.
This is your birth-day Tom, and I rejoice

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