John Keats Poems

  • 101.  
    Ah! ken ye what I met the day
    Out oure the Mountains A coming down by craggi[e]s grey
  • 102.  
    No, no! go not to Lethe, neither twist Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;
  • 103.  
    Who loves to peer up at the morning sun,
    With half-shut eyes and comfortable cheek, Let him with this sweet tale full often seek
  • 104.  
    SCENE I.
    AURANTHE'S Apartment.
  • 105.  
    Thus in altemate uproar and sad peace,
    Amazed were those Titans utterly. O leave them, Muse! O leave them to their woes;
  • 106.  
    Shed no tear! oh, shed no tear! The flower will bloom another year.
  • 107.  
    O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell,
    Let it not be among the jumbled heap Of murky buildings: climb with me the steep,â??
  • 108.  
    Son of the old Moon-mountains African!
    Chief of the Pyramid and Crocodile! We call thee fruitful, and that very while
  • 109.  
    Happy is England! I could be content
    To see no other verdure than its own; To feel no other breezes than are blown
  • 110.  
    Can death be sleep, when life is but a dream, And scenes of bliss pass as a phantom by?
  • 111.  
    Hast thou from the caves of Golconda, a gem
    Pure as the ice-drop that froze on the mountain? Bright as the humming-bird's green diadem,
  • 112.  
    Upon a time, before the faery broods
    Drove Nymph and Satyr from the prosperous woods, Before King Oberon's bright diadem,
  • 113.  
    Where's the Poet? show him! show him,
    Muses nine! that I may know him. 'Tis the man who with a man
  • 114.  
    Here all the summer could I stay, For there's Bishop's teign
  • 115.  
    This pleasant tale is like a little copse:
    The honied lines so freshly interlace, To keep the reader in so sweet a place,
  • 116.  
    Asleep! O sleep a little while, white pearl!
    And let me kneel, and let me pray to thee, And let me call Heavenâ??s blessing on thine eyes,
  • 117.  
    Two or three Posies
    With two or three simples-- Two or three Noses
  • 118.  
    To-night I'll have my friar -- let me think
    About my room, -- I'll have it in the pink; It should be rich and sombre, and the moon,
  • 119.  
    In thy western halls of gold When thou sittest in thy state,
  • 120.  
    High-mindedness, a jealousy for good,
    A loving-kindness for the great man's fame, Dwells here and there with people of no name,
  • 121.  
    As Hermes once took to his feathers light,
    When lulled Argus, baffled, swooned and slept, So on a Delphic reed, my idle spright
  • 122.  
    What though while the wonders of nature exploring,
    I cannot your light, mazy footsteps attend; Nor listen to accents, that almost adoring,
  • 123.  
    SCENE I.
    A part of the Forest.
  • 124.  
    O golden-tongued Romance with serene lute!
    Fair plumed Syren! Queen of far away! Leave melodizing on this wintry day,
  • 125.  
    To-night I'll have my friar -- let me think
    About my room, -- I'll have it in the pink; It should be rich and sombre, and the moon,
  • 126.  
    O that a week could be an age, and we
    Felt parting and warm meeting every week, Then one poor year a thousand years would be,
  • 127.  
    Fill for me a brimming bowl
    And in it let me drown my soul: But put therein some drug, designed
  • 128.  
    If by dull rhymes our English must be chain'd,
    And, like Andromeda, the Sonnet sweet Fetter'd, in spite of pained loveliness;
  • 129.  
    The Gothic looks solemn, The plain Doric column
  • 130.  
    Over the hill and over the dale,
    And over the bourn to Dawlish-- Where gingerbread wives have a scanty sale
  • 131.  
    As Hermes once took to his feathers light
    When lulled Argus, baffled, swoon'd and slept, So on a Delphic reed my idle spright
  • 132.  
    What can I do to drive away
    Remembrance from my eyes? for they have seen, Aye, an hour ago, my brilliant Queen!
  • 133.  
    Oh! how I love, on a fair summer's eve,
    When streams of light pour down the golden west, And on the balmy zephyrs tranquil rest
  • 134.  
    From BOOK I

  • 135.  
    O soft embalmer of the still midnight!
    Shutting, with careful fingers and benign, Our gloom-pleas'd eyes, embower'd from the light,
  • 136.  
    Hence Burgundy, Claret, and Port,
    Away with old Hock and madeira, Too earthly ye are for my sport;
  • 137.  
    Young Calidore is paddling o'er the lake;
    His healthful spirit eager and awake To feel the beauty of a silent eve,
  • 138.  
    How many bards gild the lapses of time!
    A few of them have ever been the food Of my delighted fancy,â??I could brood
  • 139.  
    Fresh morning gusts have blown away all fear
    From my glad bosom, -- now from gloominess I mount for ever -- not an atom less
  • 140.  
    As from the darkening gloom a silver dove
    Upsoars, and darts into the eastern light, On pinions that nought moves but pure delight,
  • 141.  
    SCENE I.
    An Ante-chamber in the Castle. Enter LUDOLPH and SIGIFRED.
  • 142.  
    This living hand, now warm and capable
    Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold And in the icy silence of the tomb,
  • 143.  
    When they were come into Faery's Court
    They rang -- no one at home -- all gone to sport And dance and kiss and love as faerys do
  • 144.  
    Dear Reynolds, as last night I lay in bed,
    There came before my eyes that wonted thread Of shapes, and shadows, and remembrances,
  • 145.  
    Cat! who has pass'd thy grand climacteric,
    How many mice and rats hast in thy days Destroy'd? How many tit-bits stolen? Gaze
  • 146.  
    'Under the flag
    Of each his faction, they to battle bring Their embryo atoms.' ~ Milton.
  • 147.  
    I had a dove, and the sweet dove died;
    And I have thought it died of grieving: O, what could it grieve for? its feet were tied
  • 148.  
  • 149.  
    Pensive they sit, and roll their languid eyes,
    Nibble their toast, and cool their tea with sighs,Or else forget the purpose of the night,
  • 150.  
    All gentle folks who owe a grudgeTo any living thing
Total 268 poems written by John Keats

Poem of the day

Christina Rossetti Poem
If A Mouse
 by Christina Rossetti

If a mouse could fly,
Or if a crow could swim,
Or if a sprat could walk and talk,
I'd like to be like him.

If a mouse could fly,
He might fly away;
Or if a crow could swim,

Read complete poem

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