The DreamDear love, for nothing less than thee
Would I have broke this happy dream;
It was a theme
For reason, much too strong for fantasy.
Therefore thou waked'st me…
by JohnKeatsEpistlesSleep and PoetrySonnetsTo My Brother GeorgeTo * * * * * *Written on the day that Mr. Leigh Hunt left PrisonHow many bards gild the lapses of time!To a Friend who sent me some…
The FleaMark but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deniest me is;
It suck'd me first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea our two bloods mingled be.
Thou know'st that…
by John Keats LamiaThe Eve of St. AgnesIsabella; or, The Pot of Basil A Story from Boccaccio Fair Isabel, poor simple Isabel!
Lorenzo, a young palmer in Love's eye!
They could…
The Blossom Little think'st thou, poor flower,
Whom I've watch'd six or seven days,
And seen thy birth, and seen what every hour
Gave to thy growth, thee to this height to raise,…
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