John Keats

'Tis the witching hour of night,
Orbed is the moon and bright,
And the stars they glisten, read more

'Tis the witching hour of night,
Orbed is the moon and bright,
And the stars they glisten, glisten,
Seeming with bright eyes to listen-
For what listen they?

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter.

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter.

Poetry should... should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance.

Poetry should... should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance.

O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell,
Let it not be among the jumbled heap
Of read more

O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell,
Let it not be among the jumbled heap
Of murky buildings: climb with me the steep,--
Nature's observatory--whence the dell,
In flowery slopes, its river's crystal swell,
May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep
'Mongst boughs pavilion'd, where the deer's swift leap
Startles the wild bee from the foxglove bell.

How beautiful, if sorrow had not made
Sorrow more beautiful than Beauty's self.

How beautiful, if sorrow had not made
Sorrow more beautiful than Beauty's self.