John Keats

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

John Keats Poems

201. Ode On Melancholy 12/31/2002
202. On The Sea 1/3/2003
203. La Belle Dame Sans Merci 12/31/2002
204. Give Me Women, Wine, And Snuff 1/3/2003
205. Written On A Summer Evening 1/3/2003
206. A Party Of Lovers 3/22/2010
207. To Hope 12/31/2002
208. A Draught Of Sunshine 3/22/2010
209. Ode On A Grecian Urn 12/31/2002
210. Fancy 12/31/2002
211. His Last Sonnet 1/3/2003
212. A Song About Myself 3/22/2010
213. Ode To Autumn 12/31/2002
214. Ode To A Nightingale 12/31/2002
215. When I Have Fears 12/31/2002
216. Bright Star 12/31/2002
217. A Thing Of Beauty (Endymion) 1/3/2003
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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