John Keats

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

John Keats Poems

41. Translated From A Sonnet Of Ronsard 3/23/2010
42. Sonnet. Written Before Re-Read King Lear 3/23/2010
43. Fragment Of 3/29/2010
44. Fragment Of An Ode To Maia. Written On May Day 1818 3/29/2010
45. Sonnet. A Dream, After Reading Dante's Episode Of Paulo And Francesca 3/23/2010
46. The Devon Maid: Stanzas Sent In A Letter To B. R. Haydon 3/23/2010
47. Stanzas. In A Drear-Nighted December 3/29/2010
48. Written In The Cottage Where Burns Was Born 3/23/2010
49. Sonnet I. To My Brother George 3/23/2010
50. Lines Written In The Highlands After A Visit To Burns's Country 3/23/2010
51. Stanzas To Miss Wylie 3/23/2010
52. Sonnet Xi. On First Looking Into Chapman's Homer 3/23/2010
53. Two Sonnets. To Haydon, With A Sonnet Written On Seeing The Elgin Marbles 3/23/2010
54. Sonnet Iii. Written On The Day That Mr. Leigh Hunt Left Prison 3/23/2010
55. Epistle To John Hamilton Reynolds 3/23/2010
56. On Visiting The Tomb Of Burns 3/23/2010
57. Staffa 3/23/2010
58. To **** 3/23/2010
59. Sonnet. Written On A Blank Page In Shakespeare's Poems, Facing 'A Lover's Complaint' 3/23/2010
60. Sonnet Ii. To ****** 3/23/2010
61. Fragment Of 'The Castle Builder.' 3/23/2010
62. Sonnet: Before He Went 3/23/2010
63. Sonnet V. To A Friend Who Sent Me Some Roses 3/23/2010
64. Sonnet To The Nile 3/23/2010
65. Imitation Of Spenser 3/23/2010
66. Sonnet: As From The Darkening Gloom A Silver Dove 3/23/2010
67. Daisy's Song 2/4/2016
68. Extracts From An Opera 3/23/2010
69. Fragment. Where's The Poet? 3/23/2010
70. The Gadfly 3/23/2010
71. Sonnet. Written In Disgust Of Vulgar Superstition 3/23/2010
72. Sonnet. To A Young Lady Who Sent Me A Laurel Crown 3/23/2010
73. Sonnet Vii. To Solitude 3/23/2010
74. Lines On Seeing A Lock Of Milton's Hair 3/23/2010
75. To -------. 3/23/2010
76. On Receiving A Curious Shell 3/23/2010
77. Sonnet To George Keats: Written In Sickness 3/23/2010
78. Two Or Three 3/23/2010
79. Sonnet. To A Lady Seen For A Few Moments At Vauxhall 3/23/2010
80. Hyperion. Book Iii 3/29/2010

Comments about John Keats

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

    Nice and attractive poems

    4 person liked.
    4 person did not like.
  • 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.

  • 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!

  • Fuck who made this web (2/27/2018 11:00:00 AM)


  • shut the f*uck your mom (2/22/2018 4:24:00 PM)


  • Shubham kute patil (2/21/2018 12:54:00 AM)

    It is historical movement

  • Sangam polkamwad (2/19/2018 11:33:00 PM)


  • HARERAM PANDIT (2/18/2018 3:51:00 AM)

    Very nice

  • Hareram Pandit (2/18/2018 3:50:00 AM)

    Very. Nice

  • Taib ali (12/17/2017 7:15:00 AM)

    Very good

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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