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John Keats: Calidore
by JohnKeatsSpecimen of an Induction to a PoemTo Some LadiesCalidore A fragment Young Calidore is paddling o'er the lake; His healthful spirit eager and awake To feel the beauty of a…William Blake: The Echoing Green
by WilliamBlakeThe ShepherdThe LambThe Echoing Green The sun does arise, And make happy the skies; The merry bells ring To welcome the Spring; The skylark and thrush, The birds of…John Keats: To J. H. Reynolds, Esq.
This Living Hand, Now Warm and CapableTranslated from RonsardTo J. H. Reynolds, Esq. Dear Reynolds, as last night I lay in bed, There came before my eyes that wonted thread Of shapes, and…Fiske, John
(Encyclopedia) Fiske, John, 1842–1901, American philosopher and historian, b. Hartford, Conn. Born Edmund Fisk Green, he changed his name in 1855 to John Fisk, adding the final e in 1860. He opened a…John Keats: To Homer
To Ailsa RockTo Mrs. Reynolds's CatTo Homer Standing aloof in giant ignorance, Of thee I hear and of the Cyclades, As one who sits ashore and longs perchance To visit dolphin-coral in deep…John Keats: To My Brother George
by JohnKeatsTo * * * * * *To My Brother George Many the wonders I this day have seen: The sun, when first he kist away the tears That fill'd the eyes of morn;--the laurel'd peers Who…John Keats: To Leigh Hunt, Esq.
by JohnKeats"What more felicity can fall t..."Places of nestling green for ...To Leigh Hunt, Esq. To Leigh Hunt, Esq. Glory and loveliness have passed away; For if we wander out in…John Keats: Keen, fitful gusts are whisp'ring here and there
by JohnKeatsTo My BrothersTo one who has been long in city pent,Keen, fitful gusts are whisp'ring here and there Keen, fitful gusts are whisp'ring here and there Among the bushes half…John Keats: To Mrs. ReynoldsâÂÂs Cat
To HomerTo One Who Has Been Long in City PentTo Mrs. Reynolds's Cat Cat! who hast passed thy grand climacteric, How many mice and rats hast in thy days Destroyed? How many tit-bits stolen?…John Keats: Stanzas
A Song About MyselfThis Living Hand, Now Warm and CapableStanzas I In drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne’er remember Their green felicity: The north cannot…Trending
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