Fanatics have their dreams, wherewith they weave
A paradise for a sect.

(John Keats (1795-1821), British poet. The Fall of Hyperion, cto. 1 (written 1819). Opening lines.)

After dark vapours have oppress'd our plains
For a long dreary season, comes a day
Born of the gentle South, and clears away
From the sick heavens all unseemly stains

(John Keats (1795-1821), British poet. After Dark Vapours (l. 1-4). . . The Complete Poems [John Keats]. John Barnard, ed. (3d ed., 1988) Penguin.)

Are there not thousands in the world . . .
Who love their fellows even to the death,
Who feel the giant agony of the world,
And more, like slaves to poor humanity,
Labour for mortal good?

(John Keats (1795-1821), British poet. "The Fall of Hyperion," cto. 1.)

Full on this casement shone the wintry moon,
And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast,

(John Keats (1795-1821), British poet. The Eve of St. Agnes (l. 17-18). . . The Complete Poems [John Keats]. John Barnard, ed. (3d ed., 1988) Penguin.)

Noiseless as fear in a wide wilderness,

(John Keats (1795-1821), British poet. The Eve of St. Agnes (l. 250). . . The Complete Poems [John Keats]. John Barnard, ed. (3d ed., 1988) Penguin.)

in chords that tenderest be,
He played an ancient ditty, long since mute,
In Provence called, "La belle dame sans merci":

(John Keats (1795-1821), British poet. The Eve of St. Agnes (l. 269-270). . . The Complete Poems [John Keats]. John Barnard, ed. (3d ed., 1988) Penguin.)

Into her dream he melted, as the rose
Blendeth its odor with the violet?
Solution sweet:

(John Keats (1795-1821), British poet. The Eve of St. Agnes (l. 320-322). . . The Complete Poems [John Keats]. John Barnard, ed. (3d ed., 1988) Penguin.)

The music, yearning like a God in pain,
She scarcely heard:

(John Keats (1795-1821), British poet. The Eve of St. Agnes (l. 56-57). . . The Complete Poems [John Keats]. John Barnard, ed. (3d ed., 1988) Penguin.)

Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose,

(John Keats (1795-1821), British poet. The Eve of St. Agnes (l. 136). . . The Complete Poems [John Keats]. John Barnard, ed. (3d ed., 1988) Penguin.)

Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,
Where youth grows pale, and specter-thin, and dies;
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
And leaden-eyed despairs,
Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous-eyes,
Or new Love pine at them beyond tomorrow.

(John Keats (1795-1821), British poet. Ode to a Nightingale (l. 24-30). . . The Complete Poems [John Keats]. John Barnard, ed. (3d ed., 1988) Penguin.)