John Keats

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

Comments about John Keats

  • Bambam Yadav (3/16/2010 10:21:00 AM)

    John keats is one of the such raomantic poet who never put himself under restriction of versification.Keats achieved mastery in spontaneous voices of hearts.He seemed to us the best romantic as well as classic in his composition.His extraordinary verses, of course, takes us in the stream of realization.

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  • Subrata Ray (2/25/2010 9:43:00 AM)

    Keats is an artist.He is original in his own way.He leaves no theory of poetry as Wordsworth does.His conception of beauty as revealed in Ode to Grecian Urn is a discovery.
    His few poems bear with them the stamp of his genius.Every where, we find, the qualities like, Medieval ism, Hellenism, word-painting, sensuousness, and aestheticism, etc.The ode to Nightingale, seems to be the representative poem of the poet.
    Had Keats not an earlier death, he could have contributed to the world the fruits of his excellency.
    Subrata Ray.Mousumipara.Uluberia.West.Bengal.India.

  • Abel Enokela (2/5/2010 6:22:00 AM)

    John Keats is great poet; though dead he is still a great influence in poetry in all ages

  • Lalit Patel (7/31/2009 11:12:00 PM)

    Dear Sir,

    I need similar poems of the Human Seasons. Pls mail me as earlier becos its very urgent for me


  • Silly Tony (5/6/2009 11:32:00 PM)

    John Keats, a beautiful name, a handsome man, during his short life created a lot of memorable poems.

  • p.a. noushad p.a. noushad (8/1/2008 3:48:00 AM)

    your poems I read again and again, a nice experience.

  • p.a. noushad p.a. noushad (8/1/2008 3:40:00 AM)

    your poems are heart touching and romantic.

  • Rohan R (7/29/2008 10:01:00 AM)

    Gifted poet that touches the painful hearts

  • p.a. noushad p.a. noushad (7/14/2008 3:58:00 AM)

    Dear keats I love your poems again and again.

  • p.a. noushad p.a. noushad (6/14/2008 1:44:00 AM)

    romantic touch with painful realities.

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)


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 star,
Sat gray-hair'd Saturn, quiet as a stone,
Still as the silence round about his lair;
Forest on forest hung above his head
Like cloud on cloud. No stir of air was there,
Not so much life as on a summer's day

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