John Keats

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

Comments about John Keats

  • Himanshu Shukla (8/17/2018 4:21:00 AM)

    Himanshu Shukla

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  • Arundhathi (7/23/2018 9:35:00 AM)

    Add a comment Wonderful works...

  • Sneha (6/30/2018 9:50:00 AM)

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  • Harsh (6/28/2018 11:55:00 AM)

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  • Harsh (6/28/2018 11:49:00 AM)

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  • Risha Gupta (5/24/2018 1:07:00 AM)

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  • Gulzar Hussain ranjoor (3/29/2018 12:48:00 AM)

    Nice and attractive poems

  • Grayson Goss (3/20/2018 1:46:00 PM)

    This poet has forver changed my life. No one else can write as he did. He is the Tom Bombadil of poetry. He is one of a kind. Every single line I read I can't help but shed a tear, not from sadness, but from amazement. I aspire to write poetry as Keats did. This sounds weird but i feel as if Keats will sometimes talk through me. A teacher once told me Listen class this is just a poem, and without hesitation Keats spoke through me and said it is never just a poem.
    -GraysonGossBoss

  • Joshua Adeyemi Joshua Adeyemi (3/4/2018 3:13:00 PM)

    My poems have often being liken to this man's poems...

    And I stopped to wait by... And see who he is...

    Well... He's one of them!

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 Mrs Reynolds' Cat

Cat! who hast pass’d thy grand climacteric,
How many mice and rats hast in thy days
Destroy’d? How many tit bits stolen? Gaze
With those bright languid segments green, and prick
Those velvet ears - but pr’ythee do not stick
Thy latent talons in me - and upraise
Thy gentle mew - and tell me all thy frays,
Of fish and mice, and rats and tender chick.
Nay, look not down, nor lick thy dainty wrists -

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