John Keats
1795–1821
John Keats (1795–1821) was an English Romantic poet, born in London. He trained as a surgeon’s apprentice before devoting himself to poetry, and published three collections in his short life, the last in 1820.
In a single year, 1819, he wrote the great odes — “Ode to a Nightingale”, “Ode on a Grecian Urn”, “To Autumn” and “Ode on Melancholy” — as well as “La Belle Dame sans Merci” and “The Eve of St. Agnes”. Rich sensory imagery and the tension between beauty and mortality define his work. He died of tuberculosis in Rome at 25; his letters are also admired as reflections on poetry.
Best-known poems
-
Ode to a Nightingale
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 … -
Ode on a Grecian Urn
Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express … -
To Autumn
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness!
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless … -
The Eve of St. Agnes
Saint Agnes’ EVE,—ah, bitter chill it was!
The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold;
The hare limped trembling through the frozen grass, … -
Ode on Melancholy
No, no! go not to Lethe, neither twist
Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;
Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kist … -
Ode to Psyche
O GODDESS! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung
By sweet enforcement and remembrance dear,
And pardon that thy secrets should be sung …
All poems (29)
- Bards of Passion and of MirthYe have left your souls on earth!
- Blue EyesAnswer to a Sonnet Ending Thus—
- Bright Star, Would I Were Steadfast as Thou ArtNot in lone splendour hung aloft the night,
- FancyEver let the Fancy roam,
- Fragment of an Ode to MaiaMother of Hermes! and still youthful Maia!
- Las Belle Dame sans Merci'o WHAT can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
- Last SonnetBright Star, would I were steadfast as thou art—
- O love me truly!You say you love; but with a voice
- Ode on a Grecian UrnThou still unravish'd bride of quietness,
- Ode on MelancholyNo, no! go not to Lethe, neither twist
- Ode to a NightingaleMy heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
- Ode to PsycheO GODDESS! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung
- On first looking into Chapman's HomerMuch have I travell'd in the realms of gold,
- On First Looking into Chapman’s HomerMuch have I travelled in the realms of gold,
- Song of the Indian Maido SORROW!
- StanzasIn a drear-nighted December,
- The Eve of St. AgnesSaint Agnes’ EVE,—ah, bitter chill it was!
- The Grasshopper and CricketThe Poetry of earth is never dead;
- To AutumnSeason of mists and mellow fruitfulness!
- To Benjamin Robert HaydonGreat spirits now on earth are sojourning:
- To SleepO SOFT embalmer of the still midnight!
- When I have Fears that I may cease to beBefore my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
- “A thing of beauty is a joy forever”From “Endymion,” Book I.
