A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: 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. Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing A flowery band to bind us to the earth, Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth Of noble natures, of the gloomy days, Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all, Some shape of beauty moves away ...

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My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: 'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thy happiness, - That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease. O for a draught of vintage! that hath been Cooled a long age in the deep-delved earth, Tasting of Flora and ...

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John Keats, an English romantic poet born on 31st October, 1795 in London. In his short lifetime he published 3 books of poetry.  He lost his parents at the very early stage of his life. Richard Abbey and John Rowland Sandell were the two London merchants who were appointed by the Keats’s maternal grandmother as his guardians. At the age of fifteen he was withdrew from the Clarke school by Abbey to apprentice with an apothecary surgeon. He also studied ...

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