X. I saw pale kings and princes too, Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; They criedโโLa Belle Dame sans Merci Hath thee in thrall!โ XI. I saw their starved lips in the gloam, With horrid warning gaped wide, And I awoke and found me here, On the cold hillโs side. XII. And this is why I sojourn here, Alone and palely loitering, Though the sedge is witherโd from the lake, And no birds sing.
John KeatsOr thou might'st better listen to the wind, Whose language is to thee a barren noise, Though it blows legend-laden through the trees.
John KeatsWhen I have fears that I may cease to be Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain, Before high-piled books, in charactery, 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.
John KeatsMy passions are all asleep from my having slumbered till nearly eleven and weakened the animal fiber all over me to a delightful sensation about three degrees on this sight of faintness - if I had teeth of pearl and the breath of lilies I should call it languor - but as I am I must call it laziness. In this state of effeminacy the fibers of the brain are relaxed in common with the rest of the body, and to such a happy degree that pleasure has no show of enticement and pain no unbearable frown. Neither poetry, nor ambition, nor love have any alertness of countenance as they pass by me.
John KeatsLet us not go hurrying about and collecting honey, bee-like buzzing here and there for a knowledge of what is not to be arrived at, but let us open our leaves like a flower, and be passive and receptive, budding patiently under the eye of Apollo, and taking hints from every noble insect that favours us with a visit - sap will be given us for meat and dew for drink.
John Keats