Poems List

Spenserian Stanza. Written At The Close Of Canto II, Book V, Of

Spenserian Stanza. Written At The Close Of Canto II, Book V, Of

In after-time, a sage of mickle lore
Yclep'd Typographus, the Giant took,
And did refit his limbs as heretofore,
And made him read in many a learned book,
And into many a lively legend look;
Thereby in goodly themes so training him,
That all his brutishness he quite forsook,
When, meeting Artegall and Talus grim,
The one he struck stone-blind, the other's eyes wox dim.
360

Sonnet: When I Have Fears That I May Cease To Be

Sonnet: When I Have Fears That I May Cease To Be

When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
Before high piled books, in charactry,
Hold like rich garners the full-ripen'd grain;
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;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love; -- then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink.
396

Sonnet: Before He Went

Sonnet: Before He Went

BEFORE he went to feed with owls and bats
Nebuchadnezzar had an ugly dream,
Worse than an Hus'if's when she thinks her cream
Made a Naumachia for mice and rats.
So scared, he sent for that 'Good King of Cats'
Young Daniel, who soon did pluck away the beam
From out his eye, and said he did not deem
The sceptre worth a straw his Cushions old door-mats.
A horrid nightmare similar somewhat
Of late has haunted a most motley crew,
Most loggerheads and Chapmen we are told
That any Daniel tho' he be a sot
Can make the lying lips turn pale of hue
By belching out 'ye are that head of Gold.'
442

Sonnet. Written On A Blank Space At The End Of Chaucer's Tale Of 'The Floure

Sonnet. Written On A Blank Space At The End Of Chaucer's Tale Of 'The Floure
And The Lefe'

This pleasant tale is like a little copse:
The honied lines do freshly interlace,
To keep the reader in so sweet a place,
So that he here and there full hearted stops;
And oftentimes he feels the dewy drops
Come cool and suddenly against his face,
And by the wandering melody may trace
Which way the tender-legged linnet hops.
Oh! What a power hath white simplicity!
What mighty power has this gentle story!
I, that for ever feel athirst for glory,
Could at this moment be content to lie
Meekly upon the grass, as those whose sobbings
Were heard of none beside the mournful robbins.
379

Sonnet: After Dark Vapors Have Oppress'd Our Plains

Sonnet: After Dark Vapors Have Oppress'd Our Plains

After dark vapors have oppress'd our plains
For a long dreary season, comes a day
Born of the gentle South, and clears away
From the sick heavens all unseemly stains.
The anxious month, relieved of its pains,
Takes as a long-lost right the feel of May;
The eyelids with the passing coolness play
Like rose leaves with the drip of Summer rains.
The calmest thoughts came round us; as of leaves
Budding -- fruit ripening in stillness -- Autumn suns
Smiling at eve upon the quiet sheaves --
Sweet Sappho's cheek -- a smiling infant's breath --
The gradual sand that through an hour-glass runs --
A woodland rivulet -- a Poet's death.
392

Sonnet. Written In Disgust Of Vulgar Superstition

Sonnet. Written In Disgust Of Vulgar Superstition

The church bells toll a melancholy round,
Calling the people to some other prayers,
Some other gloominess, more dreadful cares,
More hearkening to the sermon's horrid sound.
Surely the mind of man is closely bound
In some black spell; seeing that each one tears
Himself from fireside joys, and Lydian airs,
And converse high of those with glory crown'd.
Still, still they toll, and I should feel a damp,--
A chill as from a tomb, did I not know
That they are dying like an outburnt lamp;
That 'tis their sighing, wailing ere they go
Into oblivion; -- that fresh flowers will grow,
And many glories of immortal stamp.
413

Sonnet. Why Did I Laugh Tonight?

Sonnet. Why Did I Laugh Tonight?

Why did I laugh to-night? No voice will tell
No God, no Demon of severe response,
Deigns to reply from Heaven or from Hell
Then to my human heart I turn at once:
Heart! Thou and I are here sad and alone;
I say, why did I laugh? O mortal pain!
O Darkness! Darkness! ever must I moan,
To question Heaven and Hell and Heart in vain.
Why did I laugh? I know this Being's lease,
My fancy to its utmost blisses spreads;
Yet would I on this very midnight cease,
And all the world's gaudy ensigns see in shreds;
Verse, Fame, and Beauty are intense indeed,
But Death intenser -- Death is Life's high meed.
444

Sonnet. To A Lady Seen For A Few Moments At Vauxhall

Sonnet. To A Lady Seen For A Few Moments At Vauxhall

Time's sea hath been five years at its slow ebb,
Long hours have to and fro let creep the sand,
Since I was tangled in thy beauty's web,
And snared by the ungloving of thine hand.
And yet I never look on midnight sky,
But I behold thine eyes' well memory'd light;
I cannot look upon the rose's dye,
But to thy cheek my soul doth take its flight.
I cannot look on any budding flower,
But my fond ear, in fancy at thy lips
And hearkening for a love-sound, doth devour
Its sweets in the wrong sense: -- Thou dost eclipse
Every delight with sweet remembering,
And grief unto my darling joys dost bring.
495

Sonnet. The Day Is Gone

Sonnet. The Day Is Gone

The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!
Sweet voice, sweet lips, soft hand, and softer breast,
Warm breath, light whisper, tender semitone,
Bright eyes, accomplished shape, and lang'rous waist!
Faded the flower and all its budded charms,
Faded the sight of beauty from my eyes,
Faded the shape of beauty from my arms,
Faded the voice, warmth, whiteness, paradise--
Vanished unseasonably at shut of eve,
When the dusk holiday -- or holinight
Of fragrant-curtained love begins to weave
The woof of darkness thick, for hid delight;
But, as I've read love's missal through today,
He'll let me sleep, seeing I fast and pray.
409

Sonnet. On Peace

Sonnet. On Peace

O PEACE! and dost thou with thy presence bless
The dwellings of this war-surrounded Isle;
Soothing with placid brow our late distress,
Making the triple kingdom brightly smile?
Joyful I hail thy presence; and I hail
The sweet companions that await on thee;
Complete my joy let not my first wish fail,
Let the sweet mountain nymph thy favourite be,
With England's happiness proclaim Europa's Liberty.
O Europe! let not sceptred tyrants see
That thou must shelter in thy former state;
Keep thy chains burst, and boldly say thou art free;
Give thy kings law leave not uncurbed the great ;
So with the horrors past thou'lt win thy happier fate!
545

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Identification and basic context

John Keats was a pivotal English Romantic poet. He is often grouped with Lord Byron and Percy Bysshe Shelley as the second generation of great Romantic poets. Despite his short life, his poetry achieved remarkable depth and beauty, making him one of the most influential figures in English literature. He wrote primarily in English and is celebrated for his rich imagery, exploration of beauty and truth, and his profound meditations on life and death.

Childhood and education

Keats's childhood was marked by tragedy, including the early death of his father and later his mother. He received a sound education at John Clarke's school in Enfield, where he developed a passion for classical literature. His early readings of Edmund Spenser's 'The Faerie Queene' and later the works of Leigh Hunt and William Wordsworth were significant influences. He also studied Latin and Greek, which informed his classical allusions and aesthetic sensibilities.

Literary trajectory

Keats initially trained as an apothecary-surgeon but abandoned medicine to pursue poetry. His first volume of poems, 'Poems,' was published in 1817, receiving a mixed reception. His major works, including 'Endymion,' 'The Fall of Hyperion,' and his collection of 1820 (containing his most famous odes), were produced in a remarkably fertile period. Despite critical hostility from some quarters, his poetic development was rapid and profound, moving from imitative beginnings to a unique and powerful voice.

Works, style, and literary characteristics

Keats's major works include the epic poem 'Hyperion,' the narrative poem 'Endymion,' and his series of celebrated odes: 'Ode to a Nightingale,' 'Ode on a Grecian Urn,' 'To Autumn,' 'Ode on Melancholy,' and 'Ode to Psyche.' His poetry is characterized by its intense sensory appeal, its exploration of beauty and its relationship to truth, and its meditations on mortality, joy, and sorrow. He employed rich, evocative language, elaborate metaphors, and a mastery of form, particularly the sonnet and the ode. His tone often ranges from ecstatic celebration of beauty to profound melancholy and existential questioning. Keats's innovation lay in his deep sensuousness and his philosophical engagement with the paradoxes of human experience.

Cultural and historical context

Keats was part of the second wave of English Romanticism, a movement that emphasized individualism, emotion, and the power of imagination. He was influenced by contemporary Romantics like Wordsworth and Coleridge, but also by classical literature. His work emerged during a period of significant social and political change in Britain, though his focus remained largely on aesthetic and philosophical concerns rather than direct political engagement. He faced harsh criticism from conservative periodicals like 'Blackwood's Magazine,' which attacked his perceived lack of breeding and his association with radical writers like Leigh Hunt.

Personal life

Keats's personal life was shadowed by illness and financial hardship. His engagement to Fanny Brawne was a significant emotional experience, providing inspiration for some of his most poignant love poetry, but also a source of anxiety due to his precarious health and financial situation. He nursed his brother Tom through tuberculosis and eventually succumbed to the disease himself, dying in Rome.

Recognition and reception

While Keats achieved some recognition during his lifetime, his work was not widely celebrated and even faced severe criticism. However, posthumously, his reputation grew exponentially. By the mid-19th century, he was recognized as one of the greatest English poets, admired for his imaginative power and aesthetic perfection. His influence on subsequent poets and literary movements has been immense.

Influences and legacy

Keats was influenced by classical poets like Homer and Virgil, as well as by English poets such as Spenser, Shakespeare, and Wordsworth. He, in turn, had a profound influence on later poets, including Alfred Lord Tennyson, Matthew Arnold, and the Aesthetic Movement. His legacy is cemented in his exquisite odes and sonnets, which continue to be studied, admired, and cherished for their exploration of beauty, truth, and the human condition. His concept of 'negative capability'—the ability to be in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason—is a significant contribution to literary theory.

Interpretation and critical analysis

Keats's poetry is subject to continuous critical interpretation, focusing on themes of beauty versus truth, the relationship between art and life, the experience of mortality, and the power of the imagination. His 'Ode on a Grecian Urn,' with its famous closing lines, has been particularly debated. His work is often analyzed for its rich sensory details, its exploration of complex emotional states, and its profound philosophical inquiries into the nature of existence.

Curiosities and lesser-known aspects

Keats's early ambition was to become a great poet, and he pursued this goal with remarkable dedication despite immense personal obstacles. He was known for his intense, almost feverish, creative periods. His letters reveal a deep intellectual curiosity and a profound sensitivity to beauty. A lesser-known aspect is his intense rivalry and admiration for Wordsworth, whom he saw as a great poet, yet sometimes criticized.

Death and memory

John Keats died of tuberculosis in Rome at the age of 25. His premature death contributed to his romantic legend and his status as a poet whose genius was cut short. He was buried in the Protestant Cemetery in Rome. His memory is honored through numerous literary studies, critical editions of his work, and the enduring appreciation of his poetry by readers worldwide.