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Selected Poems
Presents a collection of poems by the English Romantic poet.
256 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1970
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About the author
John Keats
1,517 books2,472 followersRich melodic works in classical imagery of British poet John Keats include "
The Eve of Saint Agnes
," "
Ode on a Grecian Urn
," and "
To Autumn
," all in 1819.
Work of the principal of the Romantic movement of England received constant critical attacks from the periodicals of the day during his short life. He nevertheless posthumously immensely influenced poets, such as Alfred Tennyson. Elaborate word choice and sensual imagery characterize poetry, including a series of odes, masterpieces of Keats among the most popular poems in English literature. Most celebrated letters of Keats expound on his aesthetic theory of "negative capability."
of the author
Work of the principal of the Romantic movement of England received constant critical attacks from the periodicals of the day during his short life. He nevertheless posthumously immensely influenced poets, such as Alfred Tennyson. Elaborate word choice and sensual imagery characterize poetry, including a series of odes, masterpieces of Keats among the most popular poems in English literature. Most celebrated letters of Keats expound on his aesthetic theory of "negative capability."
of the author
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 79 reviews
July 27, 2024
Джон Кийтс е великолепен поет!
On First Looking into Chapman's Homer
Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold,
And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
Round many western islands have I been
Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.
Oft of one wide expanse had I been told
That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne;
Yet did I never breathe its pure serene
Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:
Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
When a new planet swims into his ken;
Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes
He star'd at the Pacific—and all his men
Look'd at each other with a wild surmise—
Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
On First Looking into Chapman's Homer
Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold,
And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
Round many western islands have I been
Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.
Oft of one wide expanse had I been told
That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne;
Yet did I never breathe its pure serene
Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:
Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
When a new planet swims into his ken;
Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes
He star'd at the Pacific—and all his men
Look'd at each other with a wild surmise—
Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
March 18, 2020
Among other things, I have John Keats to thank for bringing a bit of light to an otherwise hideously monotonous English A-level course. My new favourite word is also courtesy of Keats (synaesthesia - go on, say it out loud, you know you want to) as well as a very insightful introduction into second-generation Romanticism.
Keats is lovely. Just lovely. Not intense or particularly passionate or ambitious - lovely. And unfortunately, as a girl deeply in love with the heiress of Romanticism, Emily Brontë, and the last Romantic, Thomas Hardy, I found Keats mild and tame in comparison… and slightly lacking in lustre.
I suspect my shameful lack of Greco-Roman mythology knowledge (despite having studied Latin Literature and directly translated Metamorphoses) probably had something to do with my complete lack of interest in the epic poems - which make up over half this collection. These tedious and exhaustively long narratives certainly tested my patience; they feel archaic and become increasingly bizarre and outlandish. Luckily for me, as well as numerous critics, Keats himself acknowledged that Endymion was… well, really not that good - so I don’t need to feel guilty at not enjoying some critically acclaimed masterpiece. The shorter and more serious pieces however are, quite simply, sublime. Any sort of rich sensuous detail, or anywhere I could use ‘synaesthesia’ (!!), gets me onboard. Ode to a Nightingale and To Autumn are exemplar.
I’ve had a Romantic preoccupation with eternity drummed into my head and now it’s hard to shake: Keats certainly lived and breathed his moment, but some of those moments remained timeless… destined to be picked apart by students like me rather than read for pleasure. Sorry, Keats, don’t take it personally.
September 10, 2024
Me cambió la vida
March 9, 2021
This was waaaaaay over my head. And now I feel dumb as hell. Sylvia's still my muse though. DNF at 48%.
December 28, 2015
How can one fully understand the depth of Keats' poetry in a single sitting. Some of verses gave me goosebumps. Some made me understand the meaning of love and romance. I shall read Keats' poetry till I die. This is just the introduction
October 8, 2018
Being student of English Literature Keats is indispensable. I simply love his poems
December 25, 2023
«I must not think now, though I saw that face—
But for her eyes I should have fled away.
They held me back, with a benignant light,
Soft mitigated by divinest lids
Half-closed, and visionless entire they seem'd
Of all external things;—they saw me not,
But in blank splendor, beam'd like the mild moon,
Who comforts those she sees not, who knows not
What eyes are upward cast.»
He tardado pero ha merecido mucho la pena 🤌🏼
But for her eyes I should have fled away.
They held me back, with a benignant light,
Soft mitigated by divinest lids
Half-closed, and visionless entire they seem'd
Of all external things;—they saw me not,
But in blank splendor, beam'd like the mild moon,
Who comforts those she sees not, who knows not
What eyes are upward cast.»
He tardado pero ha merecido mucho la pena 🤌🏼
April 28, 2018
Just realised that, despite having read the entirety of the collection, I have yet to say anything on here about Keats. I am so glad that I'm studying this collection as I would never have picked it up out of choice. At the start of year thirteen I could barely stand this collection- I found Keats's language harder to understand than Shakespeare and the idea of romanticism and negative capability went right over my head! But, over time, I must confess that I've come round to him. I don't like all of the poems (I guess Keats didn't intend for all of them to be published and I still haven't finished Endymion!Hence the 4 star rating) but some of them, especially the odes are honestly beautiful.
Would recommend!
Would recommend!
June 5, 2025
The anthology as a whole is hit-or-miss. My favourite poems were: 'The Eve of St. Agnes', 'Isabella, or the Pot of Basil', 'On the sea', 'Ode to Pysche', and 'After dark vapours have oppressed our plains'. I like how Keats paints incredibly ornate and evocative scenes with his words, and how he combines beautiful language with morbid themes, such as mortality and the ephemeral nature of life. When it's good, it really hits the spot.
That being said, there were a fair few poems in this collection that felt like a slog to read through. There's only so many times that I can read a description of a rural landscape before my eyes glaze over. I didn't enjoy some of the longer poems either, like Endymion and Lamia, although that's more of a personal preference as I generally prefer poems that are short and concise.
The rhythm and metre of each poem usually stays the same as well, which is another reason why I found the longer poems more tedious. The rhyme schemes are also usually consistent full rhymes, which I'm not a fan of. I prefer poems with more dynamic rhythms, and slant rhymes and internal rhymes to full ones.
That being said, there were a fair few poems in this collection that felt like a slog to read through. There's only so many times that I can read a description of a rural landscape before my eyes glaze over. I didn't enjoy some of the longer poems either, like Endymion and Lamia, although that's more of a personal preference as I generally prefer poems that are short and concise.
The rhythm and metre of each poem usually stays the same as well, which is another reason why I found the longer poems more tedious. The rhyme schemes are also usually consistent full rhymes, which I'm not a fan of. I prefer poems with more dynamic rhythms, and slant rhymes and internal rhymes to full ones.
September 28, 2019
Ah, Keats. The poor guy. The poor posterity, deprived of a lifetime of Keatsian literary finesse.
This was a great collection of Keats' published and unpublished works, an excellent introduction to the young poet. My favourite poems are probably the summer odes, but "Isabella" is up there too, and the "Endymion" excerpts and the "Hyperion" fragments were stunning (and contributed to my nostalgic thrill as a big fan of the Hyperion Cantos by Dan Simmons). Clearly Keats was still coming into his own, and I hate to think what he would have produced as his skills developed further, his philosophical/political views strengthened, and his writing branched further toward his own unique style. 'Tis a great shame, but nonetheless Keats left much to be grateful for.
This was a great collection of Keats' published and unpublished works, an excellent introduction to the young poet. My favourite poems are probably the summer odes, but "Isabella" is up there too, and the "Endymion" excerpts and the "Hyperion" fragments were stunning (and contributed to my nostalgic thrill as a big fan of the Hyperion Cantos by Dan Simmons). Clearly Keats was still coming into his own, and I hate to think what he would have produced as his skills developed further, his philosophical/political views strengthened, and his writing branched further toward his own unique style. 'Tis a great shame, but nonetheless Keats left much to be grateful for.
June 24, 2022
*4.5 I really enjoy the conventions and preoccupations of the Romantics; it's very similar to the Gothic genre being another love of mine. Only reason why it's not 5 stars i because some poems I wasn't taken in by particularly his long narrative poems just for the simple fact that I prefer shorter form poetry but that's just a personal preference and they were still beautifully written.
February 24, 2009
I just love good poetry. Keats is one of the bests.
March 13, 2025
I’m looking quite affectionately at the now corner-less worn copy of Keats poems that added beauty to my life as I read among the midtown canyons, nyc skyline, the northbound shifts in hues of seasons and trees, and Vermont stars. It was such a pleasure (and struggle) to read and I’m sure I’ll continue to uncover new pleasures in these lines in returning to them.
Some favorites are among the ones circled in my collection, some of which I recognize from his film too: When I have fears that I may cease to be, Ode on a Grecian Urn, Ode to a Nightingale, Ode on Melancholy, Ode on Indolence, Bright Star! Were I steadfast as thou art and To Autumn. The lines that struck me feel too famous to quote or write about.
Aside from those, I adored the longer narrative poems Eve of St Agnes, Isabelle or a Pot of Basil, or Lamia I just ate the drama in these up. Here are some memorable quotes...
In the Eve of St Agnes, Madeleine rushes to sleep anticipating that her future husband’s face will appear to her in a dream:
“Out went the taper as she hurried in;
Its little smoke, in pallid moonshine, died:
She closed the door, she panted, all akin
To spirits of the air, and visions wide:
No utter'd syllable, or, woe betide!
But to her heart, her heart was voluble,
Paining with eloquence her balmy side;
As though a tongueless nightingale should swell
Her throat in vain, and die, heart-stifled, in her dell.”
And her love, Porphyro, who will later become so entranced that he wakes her from her sleep, hides watching as she undresses for bed:
“Anon his heart revives: her vespers done,
Of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees;
Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one;
Loosens her fragrant boddice; by degrees
Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees:
Half-hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed,
Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees,
In fancy, fair St. Agnes in her bed,
But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled.”
Isabella cries into the pot of basil growing from her lovers decapitated head:
“And so she ever fed it with thin tears,
Whence thick, and green, and beautiful it grew,
So that it smelt more balmy than its peers
Of Basil-tufts in Florence; for it drew
Nurture besides, and life, from human fears,
From the fast mouldering head there shut from view:
So that the jewel, safely casketed,
Came forth, and in perfumed leafits spread.”
Her love for him is never dethroned:
“The ancient harps have said,
Love never dies, but lives, immortal Lord:
If Love impersonate was ever dead,
Pale Isabella kiss'd it, and low moan'd.
'Twas love; cold, - dead indeed, but not dethroned.”
In Lamia, a love that begins as:
“So done, upon the nymph his eyes he bent,
Full of adoring tears and blandishment,
And towards her stept: she, like a moon in wane,
Faded before him, cower'd, nor could restrain
Her fearful sobs, self-folding like a flower
That faints into itself at evening hour:
But the God fostering her chilled hand,
She felt the warmth, her eyelids open'd bland,
And, like new flowers at morning song of bees,
Bloom'd, and gave up her honey to the lees.
Into the green-recessed woods they flew;
Nor grew they pale, as mortal lovers do.”
Ends upon leaving their bubble where their love dissolves in the real world of reason:
“Do not all charms fly
At the mere touch of cold philosophy?
There was an awful rainbow once in heaven:
We know her woof, her texture; she is given
In the dull catalogue of common things.
Philosophy will clip an Angel's wings,
Conquer all mysteries by rule and line,
Empty the haunted air, and gnomed mine—
Unweave a rainbow, as it erewhile made
The tender-person'd Lamia melt into a shade.”
He has a quite jaded / involved view of the forms in which love can manifest:
“That but a moment's thought is passion's passing bell” , or “Against his better self, he took delight
Luxurious in her sorrows, soft and new.
His passion, cruel grown, took on a hue
Fierce and sanguineous as 'twas possible
In one whose brow had no dark veins to swell.
[…]
She burnt, she lov'd the tyranny,
And, all subdued, consented to the hour
When to the bridal he should lead his paramour.” …sounds super toxic but I love it.
I wish I could write about more but I’ve already quoted too much. I sought the full-length poem where my edition contained excerpts and read all but Endymion which I’ll have to tackle another time, perhaps after I read a few of the first generation English romantic poets as I have yet to do that. Anyway, it felt like the perfect choice for my 100th 카지노싸이트 entry since starting this reading journey.
I really loved this one:
Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art—
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—
No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever—or else swoon to death.
Some favorites are among the ones circled in my collection, some of which I recognize from his film too: When I have fears that I may cease to be, Ode on a Grecian Urn, Ode to a Nightingale, Ode on Melancholy, Ode on Indolence, Bright Star! Were I steadfast as thou art and To Autumn. The lines that struck me feel too famous to quote or write about.
Aside from those, I adored the longer narrative poems Eve of St Agnes, Isabelle or a Pot of Basil, or Lamia I just ate the drama in these up. Here are some memorable quotes...
In the Eve of St Agnes, Madeleine rushes to sleep anticipating that her future husband’s face will appear to her in a dream:
“Out went the taper as she hurried in;
Its little smoke, in pallid moonshine, died:
She closed the door, she panted, all akin
To spirits of the air, and visions wide:
No utter'd syllable, or, woe betide!
But to her heart, her heart was voluble,
Paining with eloquence her balmy side;
As though a tongueless nightingale should swell
Her throat in vain, and die, heart-stifled, in her dell.”
And her love, Porphyro, who will later become so entranced that he wakes her from her sleep, hides watching as she undresses for bed:
“Anon his heart revives: her vespers done,
Of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees;
Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one;
Loosens her fragrant boddice; by degrees
Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees:
Half-hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed,
Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees,
In fancy, fair St. Agnes in her bed,
But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled.”
Isabella cries into the pot of basil growing from her lovers decapitated head:
“And so she ever fed it with thin tears,
Whence thick, and green, and beautiful it grew,
So that it smelt more balmy than its peers
Of Basil-tufts in Florence; for it drew
Nurture besides, and life, from human fears,
From the fast mouldering head there shut from view:
So that the jewel, safely casketed,
Came forth, and in perfumed leafits spread.”
Her love for him is never dethroned:
“The ancient harps have said,
Love never dies, but lives, immortal Lord:
If Love impersonate was ever dead,
Pale Isabella kiss'd it, and low moan'd.
'Twas love; cold, - dead indeed, but not dethroned.”
In Lamia, a love that begins as:
“So done, upon the nymph his eyes he bent,
Full of adoring tears and blandishment,
And towards her stept: she, like a moon in wane,
Faded before him, cower'd, nor could restrain
Her fearful sobs, self-folding like a flower
That faints into itself at evening hour:
But the God fostering her chilled hand,
She felt the warmth, her eyelids open'd bland,
And, like new flowers at morning song of bees,
Bloom'd, and gave up her honey to the lees.
Into the green-recessed woods they flew;
Nor grew they pale, as mortal lovers do.”
Ends upon leaving their bubble where their love dissolves in the real world of reason:
“Do not all charms fly
At the mere touch of cold philosophy?
There was an awful rainbow once in heaven:
We know her woof, her texture; she is given
In the dull catalogue of common things.
Philosophy will clip an Angel's wings,
Conquer all mysteries by rule and line,
Empty the haunted air, and gnomed mine—
Unweave a rainbow, as it erewhile made
The tender-person'd Lamia melt into a shade.”
He has a quite jaded / involved view of the forms in which love can manifest:
“That but a moment's thought is passion's passing bell” , or “Against his better self, he took delight
Luxurious in her sorrows, soft and new.
His passion, cruel grown, took on a hue
Fierce and sanguineous as 'twas possible
In one whose brow had no dark veins to swell.
[…]
She burnt, she lov'd the tyranny,
And, all subdued, consented to the hour
When to the bridal he should lead his paramour.” …sounds super toxic but I love it.
I wish I could write about more but I’ve already quoted too much. I sought the full-length poem where my edition contained excerpts and read all but Endymion which I’ll have to tackle another time, perhaps after I read a few of the first generation English romantic poets as I have yet to do that. Anyway, it felt like the perfect choice for my 100th 카지노싸이트 entry since starting this reading journey.
I really loved this one:
Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art—
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—
No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever—or else swoon to death.
Read
September 11, 2024Absolutely loved getting to know a little bit about Keats. I thought it was quite approachable for the themes and topics Keats writes about as well as the period he is from.
I think this edition definitely played a part in that as the introduction was very informative and quite funny as well. Additionally, the notes on the poems were quite extensive and were clear whether they gave historical information or gave some insight into a popular reading of the poem. It also includes a list in the back with all the mythical names he mentioned which was nice to flip back to every once in a while.
For anyone who has never read poetry like this, google them! A lot of the time, there are videos discussing the poem and breaking it down. You’ll start to get a hang of what type of aspects you should look out for.
More importantly, see if you can find someone reading the poem. Stephen Fry has read quite a bit of Keats’ work which blew a lot of life in the poems that I struggled with. You can also read them aloud to yourself but I tend to recommended doing that for all poetry! This would also give you more authority of your interpretation of the poem. For more historical works, I don’t think that benefit is too great, however.
I think this edition definitely played a part in that as the introduction was very informative and quite funny as well. Additionally, the notes on the poems were quite extensive and were clear whether they gave historical information or gave some insight into a popular reading of the poem. It also includes a list in the back with all the mythical names he mentioned which was nice to flip back to every once in a while.
For anyone who has never read poetry like this, google them! A lot of the time, there are videos discussing the poem and breaking it down. You’ll start to get a hang of what type of aspects you should look out for.
More importantly, see if you can find someone reading the poem. Stephen Fry has read quite a bit of Keats’ work which blew a lot of life in the poems that I struggled with. You can also read them aloud to yourself but I tend to recommended doing that for all poetry! This would also give you more authority of your interpretation of the poem. For more historical works, I don’t think that benefit is too great, however.
October 25, 2024
This took me nearly a year to finish reading. I zoomed through the early poems but the long ones at the end dragged on interminably. I probably would have enjoyed these more if I had more recently brushed up on Roman mythology. Nevertheless, there were some poems I did enjoy, most notably "To Sleep," and "As from the Darkening Gloom a Silver Dove." I'll leave you with some excerpts from various poems that I enjoyed:
“O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been
Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth,
Tasting of Flora and the country green,
Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!”
"How to entangle, trammel up and snare
Your soul in mine, and labyrinth you there
Like the hid scent in an unbudded rose?"
“The many heard, and the loud revelry
Grew hush; the stately music no more breathes;
The myrtle sicken'd in a thousand wreaths.”
“O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been
Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth,
Tasting of Flora and the country green,
Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!”
"How to entangle, trammel up and snare
Your soul in mine, and labyrinth you there
Like the hid scent in an unbudded rose?"
“The many heard, and the loud revelry
Grew hush; the stately music no more breathes;
The myrtle sicken'd in a thousand wreaths.”
December 9, 2022
Endlessly beautiful.
July 28, 2024
I only really wanted to read The Eve of St. Agnes 🐑. Also read Lamia, La Belle Dame sans Merci, and Ode to Psyche. They were all fine.
August 25, 2021
Keats offers up some peak Romanticism. The poetry is so erudite I'd really need to give it a deeper reading to fully appreciate it, rather than having it read to me by an effeminate Englishman.
Read
June 3, 2024Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st,
"Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."
March 25, 2012
I only read a few of his poems, but from what I've read I can't wait to read more.
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave 15
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal—yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair! 20
How do you not love that? It's so gorgeous and beautiful!
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave 15
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal—yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair! 20
How do you not love that? It's so gorgeous and beautiful!
November 27, 2022
the only thing i’m thankful to a-level literature for.
“a thing of beauty is a joy forever” and for me, that will be plenty of Keats’ poems, but especially the odes. maybe he’s slightly more melancholic than other romantics of the time, but that resonates more with me.
to view the world the way he viewed it, even just for a day, i think would be a rather incredible thing. even on his melancholic days.
“a thing of beauty is a joy forever” and for me, that will be plenty of Keats’ poems, but especially the odes. maybe he’s slightly more melancholic than other romantics of the time, but that resonates more with me.
to view the world the way he viewed it, even just for a day, i think would be a rather incredible thing. even on his melancholic days.
March 26, 2020
a magical, magical book - always in my heart
January 3, 2022
actual rate: 3,75
August 16, 2021
NAME- Selected poems by John Keats
AGE RATING- 12/13+
BOOK RATING- 4.5 Stars
Ever since the 6th standard, when my Literature marks plummeted due to my ‘wrong’ analysis of Wordsworth’s poem, ‘Daffodils’; I have hated every single poem from the Romanticism Era. If you saw a 10-year-old me tearing up a hundred copies of Romantic poems, it would be no surprise. The hate was deeply rooted inside of me and still is, at least it was till a few days ago.
My mother had picked up this book, against my will because apparently, I needed to read more poetry from the Romanticism Era. I had low, well almost no expectations from this book because well, of the 10-year-old me.
As soon as I opened this book I was surprised (well, I was more sleepy since these poems were long, and I do not advise you to read them at 11:30 in the night).
This book is the best poetry book I’ve ever read.
The imagery is amazing, you could close your eyes and imagine the scenes, the romance playing out between the characters. You could sense the leaves, the flowers, the pure passion put into these poems.
The Greek Mythology references are the cherry on top. The sheer godliness and the prettiness paired with the beautiful writing, make this an excellent read.
But, I would take off 0.5 stars for the same Greek Mythology references. I liked them, but not many people have a vast knowledge about the topic, making it harder to understand the emotions.
But even without knowing anything, you could feel the pure, raw emotions in these poems, the passion, the feelings, the personality.
Well, I could go on about this book. But, what's important is that you, dear readers, read at least one poem by this author and feel what I can.
Poetry is emotions, poetry is feeling what the poet felt.
So dear reader, can you feel what I am saying, can you hear the voice in your heart that shouts, “Read! Feel!” Dear reader, can you hear it, can you hear me, shouting and screaming, imploring you to read this book?
AGE RATING- 12/13+
BOOK RATING- 4.5 Stars
Ever since the 6th standard, when my Literature marks plummeted due to my ‘wrong’ analysis of Wordsworth’s poem, ‘Daffodils’; I have hated every single poem from the Romanticism Era. If you saw a 10-year-old me tearing up a hundred copies of Romantic poems, it would be no surprise. The hate was deeply rooted inside of me and still is, at least it was till a few days ago.
My mother had picked up this book, against my will because apparently, I needed to read more poetry from the Romanticism Era. I had low, well almost no expectations from this book because well, of the 10-year-old me.
As soon as I opened this book I was surprised (well, I was more sleepy since these poems were long, and I do not advise you to read them at 11:30 in the night).
This book is the best poetry book I’ve ever read.
The imagery is amazing, you could close your eyes and imagine the scenes, the romance playing out between the characters. You could sense the leaves, the flowers, the pure passion put into these poems.
The Greek Mythology references are the cherry on top. The sheer godliness and the prettiness paired with the beautiful writing, make this an excellent read.
But, I would take off 0.5 stars for the same Greek Mythology references. I liked them, but not many people have a vast knowledge about the topic, making it harder to understand the emotions.
But even without knowing anything, you could feel the pure, raw emotions in these poems, the passion, the feelings, the personality.
Well, I could go on about this book. But, what's important is that you, dear readers, read at least one poem by this author and feel what I can.
Poetry is emotions, poetry is feeling what the poet felt.
So dear reader, can you feel what I am saying, can you hear the voice in your heart that shouts, “Read! Feel!” Dear reader, can you hear it, can you hear me, shouting and screaming, imploring you to read this book?
February 28, 2025
Beauty is truth, truth beauty, - that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need know.
Liked this a lot! Some duds (at least Endymion comes with a warning telling you it's shite), but so much more brilliant stuff.
Why were they proud? Because their marble founts
Gushed with more pride than do a wretch's tears? -
Why were they proud? Because fair orange-mounts
Were of more soft ascent than lazar stairs? -
Why were they proud? Because red-lined accounts
Were richer than the songs of Grecian years? -
Why were they proud? again we ask aloud
Why in the name of Glory were they proud?
Apart from Endymion, all the other longer ones (Isabella; or, The Pot of Basil, Hyperion, Lamia, The Fall of Hyperion) are great, even in their unfinished state. The ones themed around Rabbie Burns are nice too.
Say, doth the dull soil
Quarrel with the proud forests it hath fed,
and feedeth still, more comely than itself?
Can it deny the cheifdom of green groves?
Or shall the tree be envious of the dove
Because it cooeth, and hath snowy wings
To wander wherewithal and find its joys?
I think Ode on a Grecian Urn or Ode to a Nightingale are my favourite though.
Adieu! Adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep
In the next valley-glades:
Was it a vision, or a waking dream
Fled is that music - Do I wake or sleep?
Ye know on earth, and all ye need know.
Liked this a lot! Some duds (at least Endymion comes with a warning telling you it's shite), but so much more brilliant stuff.
Why were they proud? Because their marble founts
Gushed with more pride than do a wretch's tears? -
Why were they proud? Because fair orange-mounts
Were of more soft ascent than lazar stairs? -
Why were they proud? Because red-lined accounts
Were richer than the songs of Grecian years? -
Why were they proud? again we ask aloud
Why in the name of Glory were they proud?
Apart from Endymion, all the other longer ones (Isabella; or, The Pot of Basil, Hyperion, Lamia, The Fall of Hyperion) are great, even in their unfinished state. The ones themed around Rabbie Burns are nice too.
Say, doth the dull soil
Quarrel with the proud forests it hath fed,
and feedeth still, more comely than itself?
Can it deny the cheifdom of green groves?
Or shall the tree be envious of the dove
Because it cooeth, and hath snowy wings
To wander wherewithal and find its joys?
I think Ode on a Grecian Urn or Ode to a Nightingale are my favourite though.
Adieu! Adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep
In the next valley-glades:
Was it a vision, or a waking dream
Fled is that music - Do I wake or sleep?
January 11, 2018
I've cheated a little here. The printing is rather small in a dense serif font, which doesn't help my enjoyment. This book consists mainly of Endymion, alongside many other smaller works. I read all those (my favourites being the Robin Hood and the Mermaid Tavern ones) but like with Wordsworth's book I read last year, I wasn't wildly astounded by the 'short' poems, being as they are odes to extremely minor things such as people/places I don't know or dandelions, rocky crags and pebbles. I like nature and wildlife as much as anyone but my patience is tested when people wax lyrical over a dozen pages about them, especially when using mostly opaque dated poetry that doesn't always satisfactorily scan, rhyme or even make sense. Wordsworth and Keats are both clearly extremely clever writers. Maybe I'm a heathen, but I need writing to have a point and direction other than just being vaguely evocative of a time and place. As with Wordsworth, Keats conjures up some lovely imagery and beautiful lines on occasion, but as I've read Endymion long ago, I can't bring myself to read this 108-page poem again when I can only understand about 5% of it, masterpiece though it may be. Sorry. 3.25/5
August 9, 2021
This collection of sixty-one poems from the early 19th century British Romantic poet contains a diverse cross-section of poems. While 61 poems might not seem like a substantial selection by today’s standards, this volume includes several long form poems such a “Lamia,” “Hyperion,” and a long excerpt from “Endymion.” It includes all of Keats’ most popular and anthologized works, including: “Ode to a Grecian Urn,” “To Sleep,” “Bright Star…,” “To Autumn,” and “Ode to a Nightingale.” Among the works included are short, medium, and long poems; rhymed verse and blank verse; sonnets and ballads; love poems, nature poems, Greek Mythological fan fiction [in verse,] and homages to important influences -- e.g. Shakespeare.
Keats died at 25, making it all the more impressive that he had a body of work from which such a fine selection could be pulled. His imagery is vivid, and his lyricism is musical. I’d highly recommend this collection as an excellent overview of Keats’ poetry.
Keats died at 25, making it all the more impressive that he had a body of work from which such a fine selection could be pulled. His imagery is vivid, and his lyricism is musical. I’d highly recommend this collection as an excellent overview of Keats’ poetry.
July 6, 2017
Originally I started reading these poems as part of my English Lit course as we studied a selection of the anthology. Keat's writing is absolutely beautiful and draws heavily upon Greeco-Roman mythology (Endymion, Hyperion, Ode to Psyche, etc all are based on the gods/goddesses/titans/mortals of the mythological world). Therefore it's no surprise that I feel in love with his work as these classical tales are some of my favourite things.
It's been stated by some scholars that by Keat's death, aged 25, he'd written more works of note than Shakespeare and Milton had combined by the time they were 25, thus suggesting that if he'd lived longer Keats may have become the greatest writer of the English language. From reading this collection I feel like that sentiment is truthful and founded in some of the most engaging poetry I've read.
It's been stated by some scholars that by Keat's death, aged 25, he'd written more works of note than Shakespeare and Milton had combined by the time they were 25, thus suggesting that if he'd lived longer Keats may have become the greatest writer of the English language. From reading this collection I feel like that sentiment is truthful and founded in some of the most engaging poetry I've read.
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April 12, 2020I don't think you can read Keats: certainly I dipped into these selected poems. Nor do I think you can 'rate' any of England's poets of the Romantic movement, Byron or Shelley, just as you wouldn't give stars to a Shakespeare play. I am not a fan of this style of poetry with all its connived rhymes and classical allusion, but you cannot but feel for Keats and his short, tragic life of 26 years - his father, mother and brother, Tom, all dying of tuberculosis, his broken engagement with Fanny Brawne. The one thing I have learnt from this book is that there is so much more to Keats than "An Ode to a Grecian Urn". From his odes to his ballads and his epics, he wrote with passion and personal insight into beauty, love and loss.
"When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain..."
"When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain..."
September 8, 2017
Penguin delivers an ample selection of Keats’ greatest hits, posthumously published pieces, and lesser-known poems. The breadth reminds that Keats is a brighter star, de-pigeonholing him from the category of tragic, ‘early slain’ St. Sebastian-lipped romantic, or the-name-rings-a-bell penman of a few famed odes. His lines, exasperatingly for the have-a-go aspiring poet, are very nearly all possessed of an astonishing gemlike beauty: Or where God Bacchus drains his cups divine, / Stretched out, at ease, beneath a glutinous pine; / Or where in Pluto’s gardens palatine / Mulciber’s columns gleam in far piazzian line. (Lamia, I:209-12). Regrettably, Endymion is abridged.
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