Can death be sleep, when life is but a dream,
And scenes of bliss pass as a phantom by?
The transient pleasures as a vision seem,
And yet we think the greatest pain's to die.
How strange it is that man on earth should roam,
And lead a life of woe, but not forsake
His rugged path; nor dare he view alone
His future doom which is but to awake.
John Keats's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (On Death by John Keats )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
Did you read them?
- Weeping Under The Rain, Tony Adah
- EVEN More Cosmic Than That~~~, Monk E. Biz
- No Place Nation, Xavier Cole
- Dream Another Dream, Xavier Cole
- CITY OF LOVE 10 WORD, Beryl Dov
- Polyamory, Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
- HEARTBREAK 10 WORD, Beryl Dov
- Multiple children, Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
- If I Had a Voice, Lee Gelis
- Together, Kindred velarde