The Complete Poetical Works and Letters of John KeatsIn the few short years of his life John Keats created lasting images of beauty. He wrote with a firm touch, with rich yet controlled imagination, with a joyous delight in nature. He possessed an instant alchemy by which he transmuted all sights and sounds into poetry. Voracious reading set him standards rather than furnished him models, and he strove to perfect his poetry through constant creative revision. He pleaded for freedom of imagination as opposed to the constraints of the school of Pope. He traveled widely in a futile search for health. Finally, in Rome, at the age of twenty-five, John Keats died of consumption. -- From publisher's description. |
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Page xxii
... night ? ' : - ' The day is gone , and all its sweets are gone . ' The letters contain infrequent allusions , except of course the posthumously pub- lished letters to the lady herself . But But with this overmastering passion to reckon ...
... night ? ' : - ' The day is gone , and all its sweets are gone . ' The letters contain infrequent allusions , except of course the posthumously pub- lished letters to the lady herself . But But with this overmastering passion to reckon ...
Page 6
... night ! Whene'er the fate of those I hold most dear Tells to my fearful breast a tale of sorrow , O bright - eyed Hope , my morbid fancy cheer ; Let me awhile thy sweetest comforts borrow : Thy heaven - born radiance around me shed ...
... night ! Whene'er the fate of those I hold most dear Tells to my fearful breast a tale of sorrow , O bright - eyed Hope , my morbid fancy cheer ; Let me awhile thy sweetest comforts borrow : Thy heaven - born radiance around me shed ...
Page 9
... night in the summer of 1815 in Clarke's lodging , reading from a folio volume of the book which they had borrowed . Keats left for his own lodgings at dawn , and when Clarke came down to breakfast the next morn- ing , he found this ...
... night in the summer of 1815 in Clarke's lodging , reading from a folio volume of the book which they had borrowed . Keats left for his own lodgings at dawn , and when Clarke came down to breakfast the next morn- ing , he found this ...
Page 10
... night of some quaint jubilee Which every elf and fay had come to see : When bright processions took their airy march Beneath the curvèd moon's triumphal arch . 30 But might I now each passing moment give To the coy Muse , with me she ...
... night of some quaint jubilee Which every elf and fay had come to see : When bright processions took their airy march Beneath the curvèd moon's triumphal arch . 30 But might I now each passing moment give To the coy Muse , with me she ...
Page 17
... night ! 210 Where distant ships do seem to show their keels , Phœbus awhile delay'd his mighty wheels , But the soft numbers , in that moment spoken , Made silken ties , that never may be broken . Cynthia ! I cannot tell the greater ...
... night ! 210 Where distant ships do seem to show their keels , Phœbus awhile delay'd his mighty wheels , But the soft numbers , in that moment spoken , Made silken ties , that never may be broken . Cynthia ! I cannot tell the greater ...
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Common terms and phrases
Albert Auranthe beauty breath bright Brother Brown Charles Armitage Brown Charles Cowden Clarke clouds Conrad dark DEAR death delight Dilke doth dream ears earth Endymion Erminia Ethelbert eyes fair FANNY FANNY BRAWNE fear feel flowers gentle George George Keats Gersa Glocester golden green Hampstead hand happy hast Haydon head hear heard heart heaven hope Hunt JOHN HAMILTON REYNOLDS JOHN KEATS Keats's kiss lady Lamia leaves Leigh Hunt Letters and Literary light lines lips live look Lord Lord Houghton Ludolph mind morning mortal never night numbers o'er Otho pain pale pass'd pleasant pleasure poem poetry poor Reynolds round seem'd sigh Sigifred silent sleep smile soft song sonnet sorrow soul spirit stars sweet tears Teignmouth tell thee thine thing THOMAS KEATS thou art thought trees verses voice wings wonder write young
Popular passages
Page 213 - And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.
Page 144 - MY HEART aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk...
Page 135 - Who are these coming to the sacrifice ? To what green altar, O mysterious priest, Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies, And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
Page 144 - O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim...
Page 145 - Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown: Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when sick for home, She stood in tears amid the alien corn; The same that oft-times hath Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
Page 49 - Of all the unhealthy and o'erdarkened 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, Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon For simple sheep ; and such are daffodils With the green world they live in...
Page 135 - Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone: Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss Though winning near the goal — yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
Page 131 - Of fruits, and flowers, and bunches of knot-grass, And diamonded with panes of quaint device...
Page 133 - mid the sapphire heaven's deep repose; Into her dream he melted, as the rose Blendeth its odour with the violet, — Solution sweet: meantime the frost-wind blows Like Love's alarum, pattering the sharp sleet Against the window-panes; St. Agnes
Page 145 - Away ! away ! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy...