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John Keats

John Keats

Give Me Women, Wine, and Snuff

GIVE me women, wine, and snuff
Untill I cry out “hold, enough!”
You may do so sans objection
Till the day of resurrection:
For, bless my beard, they aye shall be
My beloved Trinity.

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Altre opere di John Keats...
Autumn—On the Hudson River, by Jasper Francis Cropsey
To Autumn

Season of mists and mellow fruitfu… Close bosom-friend of the maturing… Conspiring with him how to load an… With fruit the vines that round th… To bend with apples the moss’d cot…
Spenserian Stanza. Written at the Close of Canto Ii, Book V, Of

In after-time, a sage of mickle lo… Yclep’d Typographus, the Giant to… And did refit his limbs as heretof… And made him read in many a learne… And into many a lively legend look…
Sonnet to Sleep

O soft embalmer of the still midni… Shutting, with careful fingers and… Our gloom-pleas’d eyes, embower’d… Enshaded in forgetfulness divine; O soothest Sleep! if so it please…
Sonnet: Before He Went

BEFORE he went to feed with owl… Nebuchadnezzar had an ugly dream, Worse than an Hus’if’s when she t… Made a Naumachia for mice and rat… So scared, he sent for that 'Good…
Specimen of an Induction to a Poem

Lo! I must tell a tale of chivalr… For large white plumes are dancing… Not like the formal crest of latte… But bending in a thousand graceful… So graceful, that it seems no mort…
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On First Looking into Chapman’s Homer

Much have I travell’d in the real… And many goodly states and kingdom… Round many western islands have I… Which bards in fealty to Apollo h… Oft of one wide expanse had I bee…
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To Mrs Reynolds’ Cat

Cat! who hast pass’€™d thy grand c… How many mice and rats hast in thy… Destroy’€™d? How many tit bits st… With those bright languid segments… Those velvet ears - but pr’€™ythee…
Fragment. Welcome Joy, and Welcome Sorrow

‘Under the flag Of each his faction, they to battl… Their embryo atoms.’ ~ Milton. Welcome joy, and welcome sorrow, Lethe’s weed and Hermes’ feather;
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Daisy’s Song

The sun, with his great eye, Sees not so much as I; And the moon, all silver-proud, Might as well be in a cloud. And O the spring– the spring
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Fragment of ‘The Castle Builder.’

To-night I’ll have my friar—let m… About my room,—I’ll have it in th… It should be rich and sombre, and… Just in its mid-life in the midst… Should look thro’ four large windo…
The Devon Maid

WHERE be ye going, you Devon ma… And what have ye there i’ the bask… Ye tight little fairy, just fresh… Will ye give me some cream if I a… I love your meads, and I love you…
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Imitation of Spenser

Now Morning from her orient chamb… And her first footsteps touch’d a… Crowning its lawny crest with ambe… Silv’ring the untainted gushes of… Which, pure from mossy beds, did d…
To a Young Lady Who Sent Me a Laurel Crown

Fresh morning gusts have blown awa… From my glad bosom,—now from gloom… I mount for ever—not an atom less Than the proud laurel shall conten… No! by the eternal stars! or why s…
Where's the Poet?

Where’s the Poet? Show him! show… Muses nine! that I may know him! ‘Tis the man, who with a man Is an equal, be he King, Or poorest of the beggar-clan,
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Teignmouth

Here all the summer could I stay, For there’s Bishop’s teign And King’s teign And Coomb at the clear Teign head… Where close by the stream
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