By John Keats
'I imagine I will probably be one of the English Poets after my death,' John Keats soberly prophesied in 1818 as he all started writing the blankverse epic Hyperion. this day he endures because the archetypal Romantic genius who explored the bounds of the mind's eye and celebrated the pleasures of the senses yet suffered a sad early loss of life. Edmund Wilson counted him as 'one of the part dozen maximum English writers,' and T. S. Eliot has paid tribute to the Shakespearean caliber of Keats's greatness. certainly, his paintings has survived greater than that of any of his contemporaries the devaluation of Romantic poetry that started early during this century. this contemporary Library version includes all of Keats's extraordinary verse: 'Lamia,' 'Isabella,' and 'The Eve of St. Agnes'; his sonnets and odes; the allegorical romance Endymion; and the five-act poetic tragedy Otho the good. offered besides are the well-known posthumous and fugitive poems, together with the fragmentary 'The Eve of Saint Mark' and the nice 'La Belle Dame sans Merci,' maybe the main exotic literary ballad within the language. 'No one else in English poetry, keep Shakespeare, has in expression really the interesting felicity of Keats, his conception of loveliness,' acknowledged Matthew Arnold. 'In the college of naturalistic interpretation, in what we name usual magic, he ranks with Shakespeare.'
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Extra resources for Complete Poems and Selected Letters of John Keats
Encor les voici Mélodieuses fuir dans le bois éclairci. A u x calices aimés leurs mains sont gracieuses ; U n peu de lune dort sur leurs lèvres pieuses Et leurs bras merveilleux aux gestes endormis Aiment à dénouer sous les myrtes amis Leurs liens fauves et leurs caresses... Mais certaines, Moins captives du rythme et des harpes lointaines, S'en vont d'un pas subtil au lac enseveli Boire des lys l'eau frêle où dort le pur oubli. 24 ALBUM OF EARtY VERSE The Vain Dancers They who are as light as flowers came, Golden figurines and beauties in miniature Irised by a pallid moon....
Twilight is here, At the heart's sighing my image undulates, The flute, against the entombed azure, warbles Longings of the sounding herds as they go their way. But on the mortal chill where a star is lit, Before the mist forms a gradual tomb, Accept this kiss breaking the water's fatal calm! 3i ALBUM DE VERS A N C I E N S L'espoir seul peut suffire à rompre ce cristal. La ride me ravisse au souffle qui m'exile Et que mon souffle anime une flûte gracile Dont le joueur léger me serait indulgent !
I can no longer love only when I am sleeping The grace of her actions mingling with radiance. At night my days come to give back certain looks, After the first era of miserable sleep; When unhappiness itself is diff used in the dark They come back to live me, and to give me eyes. But if their joy breaks out, an echo awakening me Throws up a mere cadaver on my shore of flesh, And my alien laugh leaves hanging in my ear, Like a murmuring sea in the empty shell, A doubt—on the edge of uttermost marvel— Whether I am, or was, whether I sleep or wake?