John Keats

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

John Keats Poems

201. A Draught Of Sunshine 3/22/2010
202. To Hope 12/31/2002
203. A Dream, After Reading Dante's Episode Of Paolo And Francesca 1/13/2003
204. Happy Is England! I Could Be Content 1/3/2003
205. Give Me Women, Wine, And Snuff 1/3/2003
206. A Party Of Lovers 3/22/2010
207. La Belle Dame Sans Merci 12/31/2002
208. Written On A Summer Evening 1/3/2003
209. Fancy 12/31/2002
210. A Song About Myself 3/22/2010
211. Ode To Autumn 12/31/2002
212. His Last Sonnet 1/3/2003
213. Ode On A Grecian Urn 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

Comments about John Keats

  • p.a. noushad p.a. noushad (8/1/2008 3:40:00 AM)

    your poems are heart touching and romantic.

    8 person liked.
    8 person did not like.
  • Rohan R (7/29/2008 10:01:00 AM)

    Gifted poet that touches the painful hearts

  • p.a. noushad p.a. noushad (7/14/2008 3:58:00 AM)

    Dear keats I love your poems again and again.

  • p.a. noushad p.a. noushad (6/14/2008 1:44:00 AM)

    romantic touch with painful realities.

  • Javier Alonso (6/7/2008 10:12:00 PM)

    great use of imagery.
    you definitely got me to imagine everything going on

    good job!

  • Donny S (6/28/2006 2:09:00 AM)

    Keats.....is definitely one of my favourite poets......I know that, a friend of mine, named Jayan in India dotes on him.......

  • Vikram Aarella - The Poem Shooter (6/1/2006 2:37:00 PM)

    Keats will remain one of my favourite authors.

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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