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But the rose leaves herself upon the brier, For winds to kiss and grateful bees to feed.

John Keats

I am convinced more and more day by day that fine writing is next to fine doing, the top thing in the world.
JOHN KEATS

Day Myself World Writing
Everything that reminds me of her goes through me like a spear.
JOHN KEATS

Dreams Herself Hurt Love Memories Myself
Death is Life’s high meed.
JOHN KEATS

Death Life One Liner
Beauty is truth, truth beauty.
JOHN KEATS

Beautiful One Liner Truth
A thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness.
JOHN KEATS

Beautiful Forever Joy Love Wisdom
You are always new, the last of your kisses was ever the sweetest.
JOHN KEATS

Kiss Romance Yourself
Stop and consider! life is but a day
JOHN KEATS

Day Life Stop
The creature has a purpose, and his eyes are bright with it.
JOHN KEATS

Bright Creature Eyes Purpose
A hope beyond the shadow of a dream.
JOHN KEATS

Beyond Dreams Hope Shadow
If poetry does not come as naturally as leaves to a tree, then it better not come at all.
JOHN KEATS

Leaving Natural Poetry Tree
Like a mermaid in sea-weed, she dreams awake, trembling in her soft and chilly nest.
JOHN KEATS

Dreams Fantasy Herself Sea Soft Tremble
Let us open our leaves like a flower, and be passive and receptive.
JOHN KEATS

Flower Leaving Ourselves Passion
Souls of poets dead and gone, What Elysium have ye known, Happy field or mossy cavern, Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern? Have ye tippled drink more fine Than mine host’s Canary wine?
JOHN KEATS

Choice Death Drink Happiness Poet Soul Wine
I don’t need the stars in the night I found my treasure All I need is you by my side so shine forever.
JOHN KEATS

Myself Need Night Shine Stars Yourself
What shocks the virtuous philosopher, delights the chameleon poet.
JOHN KEATS

Philosophy Poet Virtue
She press’d his hand in slumber; so once more He could not help but kiss her and adore.
JOHN KEATS

Hands Herself Himself Kiss

But the rose leaves herself upon the brier, For winds to kiss and grateful bees to feed.

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But the rose leaves herself upon the brier, For winds to kiss and grateful bees to feed.

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Popular Authors

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