John Keats

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

John Keats Poems

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