John Keats

Dry your eyes--O dry your eyes,
For I was taught in Paradise
To ease my breast of read more

Dry your eyes--O dry your eyes,
For I was taught in Paradise
To ease my breast of melodies.

There is a budding morrow in midnight.

There is a budding morrow in midnight.

A thing of beauty is a joy forever;
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; read more

A thing of beauty is a joy forever;
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.

He play'd an ancient ditty long since mute,
In Provence call'd, "La belle dame sans merci."

He play'd an ancient ditty long since mute,
In Provence call'd, "La belle dame sans merci."

No, no, I'm sure,
My restless spirit never could endure
To brood so long upon one luxury,
read more

No, no, I'm sure,
My restless spirit never could endure
To brood so long upon one luxury,
Unless it did, though fearfully, espy
A hope beyond the shadow of a dream.