John Keats

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

Comments about John Keats

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  • Rookie - 0 Points Shama Bukhari (9/17/2012 8:16:00 AM)

    though Wast born for death...... Keats! You died so early..... A honest and truthful poet needs thousand years to display his or her vision.... All his work is commendable.....

    72 person liked.
    61 person did not like.
  • Rookie - 0 Points Ryan Walker (8/17/2012 10:57:00 PM)

    I can't remember who said it, but someone said Keats' To Autumn is the most anthologized poem in the English language. I personally understand why, it is a break from the traditional view of Autumn prevalent in literature, that it is a time of death and misery, awaiting Winter. Instead, he writes it is the time of Harvest, from a long Summer, preparing for the Winter. After all, Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find thee sitting, carless on a granary floor.

  • Rookie - 0 Points Christian Torres (7/5/2012 9:41:00 PM)

    When thy chest did plummet its airy last
    and thy sweet brow fell forever 'pon thine eye
    a fairy gleam from each leafy nook was stolen
    and each breathing thing did expel a broken sigh.

    Thy azure pall, ethereal in the wind
    did surely catch some glint of weeping sky
    as ye were laid in the bosom of the Earth
    and bade the unborn leaves goodbye.

    Are ye transformed into thine own Endymion?
    Do ye wander the chiming isles of Greece?
    Or the pathways of Heaven, hand in hand with Milton
    Thy head laid on pillows of the softest golden fleece?

    For the toil of thy precious heart
    shall be a joy forever.
    Ne'er to be by a hateful word
    or fickle centuries severed.

    Keats remains alive and blushing in the truest and tenderest of hearts. Treasure him. Allow his words to soften and enlighten your soul.

  • Rookie - 0 Points H. Reese (7/5/2012 11:35:00 AM)

    Keats was an inspired man who wrote for Love and Truth. Those two things should be at the center of all our work. Go to Google, search The Truth Contest, click the first result, begin reading The Present

  • Rookie - 0 Points Funny Rajj (6/19/2012 2:08:00 AM)

    Well i am honored to write a comment on John Keats... His poems are so heart touching, simply love the feelings in the poem. I just stumbled upon this site which has funny poems, hope you guys will like it...

    http: //www.thefunnyquotessayings.com/funny-poems-by-not-so-famous-poets/

  • Rookie - 258 Points Shahzia Batool (2/17/2012 9:25:00 AM)

    TO KEATS!
    'thou wast not born for death, Immortal Bird! '
    now live eternally
    in worthy world,
    in poetic realm.
    thy words impress the soul,
    and overwhelm
    our each and every thought...
    thou wast a singing Bird,
    for us thou always brought
    enchanting, rhythmic words...
    now do a different job:
    remove the veil of gloom
    from caring, thoughtful mind,
    do not intend to sob
    in sad, indolent mood.
    try not to close thy eyes
    pain is the part of life-
    so why escape the world?
    thou wast not born for death
    IMMORTAL BIRD!


    Shahzia Batool

  • Rookie - 258 Points Ryan Walker (1/26/2012 12:16:00 PM)

    I love the tool Keats uses to profoundly affect the Romantic sense in his poetry. He starts grounded in reality, then slowly and gradually goes into this ideal sense, that once it hits a peak, goes back down to reality. But it is not the same point you started in.
    A fantastic poet. If only he had been able to write longer, think of the influence he would've had on his contemporaries.

  • Rookie - 258 Points Aijaz Roxx (1/22/2012 6:57:00 AM)

    keats is not only the best poet ever..... but he has the capacity of doing what the age wants..... not like shakesphere just stolen all his drams from other guys to make them personal.....

  • Rookie - 258 Points Janet Joan7 (1/12/2012 3:10:00 AM)

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  • Rookie - 0 Points p.a. noushad (4/13/2010 1:06:00 AM)

    highly romantic poems, i like very much

Hyperion

BOOK I
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,
Sat gray-hair'd Saturn, quiet as a stone,
Still as the silence round about his lair;
Forest on forest hung above his head
Like cloud on cloud. No stir of air was there,
Not so much life as on a summer's day

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