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John Keats

Poems by John Keats

    b7932192132has quoted2 years ago
    heath of life presents no bloom; Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed, And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head.
    b7932192132has quoted2 years ago
    When by my solitary hearth I sit, And hateful thoughts enwrap my soul in gloom; When no fair dreams before my "mind's eye" flit, And the bare
    Alexandra Skitiovahas quoted5 months ago
    Bright as the humming-bird's green diadem, When it flutters in sun-beams that shine through a fountain?
    b7932192132has quoted2 years ago
    Whene'er the fate of those I hold most dear
    Tells to my fearful breast a tale of sorrow,
    O bright-eyed Hope, my morbid fancy cheer;
    Let me awhile thy sweetest comforts borrow:
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