John Keats Quotes

As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again.
John Keats (1795-1821), British poet. The Eve of St. Agnes (l. 243). . . The Complete Poems [John Keats]. John Barnard, ed. (3d ed., 1988) Penguin.
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Noiseless as fear in a wide wilderness,
John Keats (1795-1821), British poet. The Eve of St. Agnes (l. 250). . . The Complete Poems [John Keats]. John Barnard, ed. (3d ed., 1988) Penguin.
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Full on this casement shone the wintry moon, And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast,
John Keats (1795-1821), British poet. The Eve of St. Agnes (l. 17-18). . . The Complete Poems [John Keats]. John Barnard, ed. (3d ed., 1988) Penguin.
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in chords that tenderest be, He played an ancient ditty, long since mute, In Provence called, "La belle dame sans merci":
John Keats (1795-1821), British poet. The Eve of St. Agnes (l. 269-270). . . The Complete Poems [John Keats]. John Barnard, ed. (3d ed., 1988) Penguin.
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Into her dream he melted, as the rose Blendeth its odor with the violet— Solution sweet:
John Keats (1795-1821), British poet. The Eve of St. Agnes (l. 320-322). . . The Complete Poems [John Keats]. John Barnard, ed. (3d ed., 1988) Penguin.
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Music's golden tongue Flattered to tears this aged man and poor;
John Keats (1795-1821), British poet. The Eve of St. Agnes (l. 20-21). . . The Complete Poems [John Keats]. John Barnard, ed. (3d ed., 1988) Penguin.
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Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose,
John Keats (1795-1821), British poet. The Eve of St. Agnes (l. 136). . . The Complete Poems [John Keats]. John Barnard, ed. (3d ed., 1988) Penguin.
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spiced dainties, every one, From silken Samarcand to cedared Lebanon.
John Keats (1795-1821), British poet. The Eve of St. Agnes (l. 269-270). . . The Complete Poems [John Keats]. John Barnard, ed. (3d ed., 1988) Penguin.
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The music, yearning like a God in pain, She scarcely heard:
John Keats (1795-1821), British poet. The Eve of St. Agnes (l. 56-57). . . The Complete Poems [John Keats]. John Barnard, ed. (3d ed., 1988) Penguin.
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Are there not thousands in the world . . . Who love their fellows even to the death, Who feel the giant agony of the world, And more, like slaves to poor humanity, Labour for mortal good?
John Keats (1795-1821), British poet. "The Fall of Hyperion," cto. 1.
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