John Keats

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

John Keats Poems

161. Staffa 3/23/2010
162. Stanzas 1/4/2003
163. Stanzas To Miss Wylie 3/23/2010
164. Stanzas. In A Drear-Nighted December 3/29/2010
165. Teignmouth 3/29/2010
166. The Cap And Bells; Or, The Jealousies: A Faery Tale -- Unfinished 3/23/2010
167. The Day Is Gone, And All Its Sweets Are Gone 1/13/2003
168. The Devon Maid: Stanzas Sent In A Letter To B. R. Haydon 3/23/2010
169. The Eve Of Saint Mark. A Fragment 3/23/2010
170. The Eve Of St. Agnes 12/31/2002
171. The Gadfly 3/23/2010
172. The Human Seasons 12/31/2002
173. Think Of It Not, Sweet One 12/31/2002
174. This Living Hand 1/3/2003
175. To **** 3/23/2010
176. To -------. 3/23/2010
177. To A Cat 1/7/2015
178. To A Friend Who Sent Me Some Roses 1/13/2003
179. To A Young Lady Who Sent Me A Laurel Crown 1/13/2003
180. To Ailsa Rock 1/13/2003
181. To Byron 1/3/2003
182. To Charles Cowden Clarke 3/23/2010
183. To Fanny 1/13/2003
184. To G.A.W. 1/13/2003
185. To George Felton Mathew 3/23/2010
186. To Haydon With A Sonnet Written On Seeing The Elgin Marbles 1/3/2003
187. To Homer 12/31/2002
188. To Hope 12/31/2002
189. To John Hamilton Reynolds 1/13/2003
190. To Mrs Reynolds' Cat 1/3/2003
191. To My Brother George 1/13/2003
192. To My Brothers 1/3/2003
193. To One Who Has Been Long In City Pent 12/31/2002
194. To Sleep 12/31/2002
195. To Solitude 12/31/2002
196. To Some Ladies 3/23/2010
197. To The Ladies Who Saw Me Crowned 3/23/2010
198. To The Nile 1/3/2003
199. To&Mdash; 1/13/2003
200. Translated From A Sonnet Of Ronsard 3/23/2010
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)

This Living Hand

This living hand, now warm and capable
Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold
And in the icy silence of the tomb,
So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights
That thou wouldst wish thine own heart dry of blood
So in my veins red life might stream again,
And thou be conscience-calmed - see here it is -
I hold it towards you.

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