John Keats Poems

  • 251.  
    In drear-nighted December,
    Too happy, happy tree,Thy branches ne'er remember
  • 252.  
    If by dull rhymes our English must be chain'd,
    And, like Andromeda, the Sonnet sweetFetter'd, in spite of pained loveliness;
  • 253.  
    Thus in altemate uproar and sad peace,
    Amazed were those Titans utterly.O leave them, Muse! O leave them to their woes;
  • 254.  
    Just at the self-same beat of Time's wide wings
    Hyperion slid into the rustled air,And Saturn gain'd with Thea that sad place
  • 255.  
    Deep in the shady sadness of a vale
    Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn,Far from the fiery noon, and eve's one star,
  • 256.  
    God of the golden bow,
    And of the golden lyre,And of the golden hair,
  • 257.  
    How many bards gild the lapses of time!
    A few of them have ever been the foodOf my delighted fancy,-I could brood
  • 258.  
    Hither hither, love-
    'Tis a shady mead-Hither, hither, love!
  • 259.  
    Happy is England! I could be content
    To see no other verdure than its own;To feel no other breezes than are blown
  • 260.  
    Full many a dreary hour have I past,
    My brain bewildered, and my mind o'ercastWith heaviness; in seasons when I've thought
  • 261.  
    Muse of my native land! loftiest Muse!
    O first-born on the mountains! by the huesOf heaven on the spiritual air begot:
  • 262.  
    There are who lord it o'er their fellow-men
    With most prevailing tinsel: who unpenTheir baaing vanities, to browse away
  • 263.  
    O Sovereign power of love! O grief! O balm!
    All records, saving thine, come cool, and calm,And shadowy, through the mist of passed years:
  • 264.  

  • 265.  
    Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art-
    Not in lone splendour hung aloft the nightAnd watching, with eternal lids apart,
  • 266.  
    “Dark eyes are dearer far
    Than those that mock the hyacinthine bell.”
  • 267.  
    High-mindedness, a jealousy for good,
    A loving-kindness for the great man's fame,Dwells here and there with people of no name,
  • 268.  
    As Hermes once took to his feathers light,
    When lulled Argus, baffled, swooned and slept,So on a Delphic reed, my idle spright
Total 268 poems written by John Keats

Poem of the day

Don Marquis Poem
So Let Them Pass, These Songs Of Mine
 by Don Marquis

So let them pass, these songs of mine,
Into oblivion, nor repine;
Abandoned ruins of large schemes,
Dimmed lights adrift from nobler dreams,

Weak wings I sped on quests divine,
So let them pass, these songs of mine.
They soar, or sink ephemeral-

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