John Keats

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

John Keats Poems

121. Keen, Fitful Gusts Are Whisp'Ring Here And There 1/3/2003
122. To Ailsa Rock 1/13/2003
123. To My Brother George 1/13/2003
124. To Byron 1/3/2003
125. To&Mdash; 1/13/2003
126. Lamia. Part I 3/23/2010
127. To Homer 12/31/2002
128. Stanzas 1/4/2003
129. On A Dream 3/23/2010
130. To Mrs Reynolds' Cat 1/3/2003
131. If By Dull Rhymes Our English Must Be Chain'D 12/31/2002
132. Lines From Endymion 1/3/2003
133. Faery Songs 3/23/2010
134. To One Who Has Been Long In City Pent 12/31/2002
135. Lines On The Mermaid Tavern 12/31/2002
136. Written On The Day That Mr Leigh Hunt Left Prison 1/3/2003
137. Calidore: A Fragment 3/23/2010
138. On Sitting Down To Read King Lear Once Again 12/31/2002
139. Ode On Melancholy 3/29/2010
140. Dawlish Fair 3/23/2010
141. On Seeing The Elgin Marbles For The First Time 1/3/2003
142. Lines 12/31/2002
143. Meg Merrilies 12/31/2002
144. Ben Nevis: A Dialogue 3/22/2010
145. To My Brothers 1/3/2003
146. Isabella Or The Pot Of Basil 1/3/2003
147. Written On A Blank Space 1/3/2003
148. How Many Bards Gild The Lapses Of Time! 1/13/2003
149. The Day Is Gone, And All Its Sweets Are Gone 1/13/2003
150. In Drear-Nighted December 12/31/2002
151. To A Friend Who Sent Me Some Roses 1/13/2003
152. Why Did I Laugh Tonight? No Voice Will Tell 1/3/2003
153. Robin Hood 12/31/2002
154. Endymion: Book Iv 1/13/2003
155. Endymion: Book Iii 1/13/2003
156. Last Sonnet 1/4/2003
157. Apollo And The Graces 3/22/2010
158. On Leaving Some Friends At An Early Hour 1/13/2003
159. To The Nile 1/3/2003
160. Ode On Indolence 12/31/2002
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 My Brothers

Small, busy flames play through the fresh laid coals,
And their faint cracklings o'er our silence creep
Like whispers of the household gods that keep
A gentle empire o'er fraternal souls.
And while, for rhymes, I search around the poles,
Your eyes are fix d, as in poetic sleep,
Upon the lore so voluble and deep,
That aye at fall of night our care condoles.
This is your birth-day Tom, and I rejoice

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