John Keats Short Quotes

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Here lies one whose name was writ in water.

John Keats
The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide.

John Keats
Scenery is fine — but human nature is finer.

John Keats
To make delicious moan Upon the midnight hours.

John Keats
O for a life of Sensations rather than of Thoughts!

John Keats
Ever let the Fancy roam,
Pleasure never is at home.

John Keats
Call the world if you Please "The vale of Soulmaking."

John Keats
She looked at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.

John Keats
I think I shall be among the English Poets after my death.

John Keats
Pleasure is oft a visitant; but pain
Clings cruelly to us.

John Keats
Do not all charms fly
At the mere touch of cold philosophy?

John Keats
'Tis the pest
Of love, that fairest joys give most unrest.

John Keats
Open afresh your round of starry folds,
Ye ardent marigolds!

John Keats
On a lone winter evening, when the frost Has wrought a silence.

John Keats
O sweet Fancy! let her loose;
Summer's joys are spoilt by use.

John Keats
There is not a fiercer hell than the failure in a great object.

John Keats
There is nothing stable in the world—uproar's your only music.

John Keats
Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be
Your mournful Psyche.

John Keats
For cruel 'tis, said she,
To steal my Basil-pot away from me.

John Keats
They swayed about upon a rocking horse,
And thought it Pegasus.

John Keats
And shade the violets, That they may bind the moss in leafy nets.

John Keats
So let me be thy choir, and make a moan
Upon the midnight hours

John Keats
Music's golden tongue
Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor.

John Keats
Let us open our leaves like a flower, and be passive and receptive.

John Keats
There is an awful warmth about my heart like a load of immortality.

John Keats
So the two brothers and their murdered man
Rode past fair Florence.

John Keats
O latest born and loveliest vision far of all Olympus' faded hierarchy.

John Keats
Already with thee! tender is the night... But here there is no light...

John Keats
O, sorrow! Why dost borrow Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?

John Keats
Through buried paths, where sleepy twilight dreams The summer time away.

John Keats