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

John Keats

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
Failure is, in a sense, the highway to success.
JOHN KEATS

Failure Inspirational Motivational Perspective Success
Land and sea, weakness and decline are great separators, but death is the great divorcer for ever.
JOHN KEATS

Death Divorce Greatness Land Sea Separate Weakness
Of love, that fairest joys give most unrest.
JOHN KEATS

Fair Joy Love Rest
Many have original minds who do not think it – they are led away by custom!
JOHN KEATS

Mindset Original Thinking
Every mental pursuit takes its reality and worth from the ardour of the pursuer.
JOHN KEATS

Mental Pursue Pursuit Reality Worth
As the Swiss inscription says: “Speech is silvern, Silence is golden;” or, as I might rather express it, Speech is of Time, Silence is of Eternity.
JOHN KEATS

Expression Forever Gold Myself Silence Talk Time
I will clamber through the clouds and exist.
JOHN KEATS

Cloud Existence Fantasy Forever Myself
Is there another Life? Shall I awake and find all this a dream? There must be we cannot be created for this sort of suffering.
JOHN KEATS

Creation Dreams Life Suffering Wake Up
Here are sweet peas, on tiptoe for a flight; With wings of gentle flush o’er delicate white, And taper fingers catching at all things, To bind them all about with tiny rings.
JOHN KEATS

Delicate Fingers Ring Tiny White Wings
I have loved the principle of beauty in all things.
JOHN KEATS

Beautiful Love Principle
What is more gentle than a wind is summer?
JOHN KEATS

One Liner Summer Wind
When I behold, upon the night’s starr’d face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance.
JOHN KEATS

Chance Face Hands Live Magic Night Romance Thinking
There is a budding tomorrow in midnight.
JOHN KEATS

Future Night
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
Love is my religion – I could die for it.
JOHN KEATS

Death Love Myself Religion

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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