Born: October 31st, 1795 - London, U.K.
Died: February 23rd, 1821 - Rome, Italy
Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
- Ode on a Grecian Urn
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness
- Ode to Autumn
I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful, a faery's child:
Her hair was long, her foot was ligh,
And her eyes were wild.
- La Belle Dame Sans Merci
This living hand, now warm and capable
Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold
And in the icy silence of the tomb,
So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights
That thou would wish thine own heart dry of blood,
So in my veins red life might stream again,
And thou be conscience-calm'd.
See, here it is --
I hold it towards you --
Keats scribbled the lines hastily on the back of a longer work he was writing in December 1819.
It is probably the last poem he ever wrote...
More details on this poem so connected with Halloween mysteries HERE...
I will clamber through the clouds and exist.
- Letters of John Keats to His Family and Friends