John Keats


I Stood tip-toe upon a little hill

Calidore: A Fragment

To Some Ladies

Woman! when I behold thee flippant, vain


A Poetic Romance.

Book I
Book II
Book III
Book IV


Part I
Part II

Isabella; or, The Pot of Basil

The Eve of St. Agnes

Ode to a Nightingale

Ode on a Grecian Urn

Ode to Psyche



Lines on the Mermaid Tavern

Robin Hood

To Autumn

Ode on Melancholy


Book I
Book II
Book III


When I have fears that I may cease to be

In a drear-nighted December

Asleep! O sleep a little while, white pearl!

La Belle Dame Sans Merci

The Human Seasons

On Fame (How fever'd is the man, who cannot look ...)

Ode to Apollo

To Lord Byron

Fill For Me A Brimming Bowl

On A Picture Of Leander

Lines (Unfelt, unheard, unseen...)

Hither, Hither, Love

To A Cat

Hence Burgundy, Claret, and Port

To A Lady Seen For A Few Moments At Vauxhall

Answer To A Sonnet By J.H.Reynolds, ending -

O Blush Not So!

To Homer

Meg Merrilies

Lines Written In The Highlands

Modern Love

Hush, Hush! Tread Softly!

Extracts From An Opera

To Sleep

Why Did I Laugh Tonight?

On Fame (How fever'd is the man, who cannot look ...)

A Dream, After Reading Dante's Episode Of Paolo And Francesca

Ode on Indolence

The Day is Gone, and all its Sweets are Gone

Lines To Fanny

A Party Of Lovers

This living hand, now warm and capable

Bright star! would I were steadfast as thou art


I.To My Brother George

II.To * * * * * *

III.Written on the day that Mr. Leigh Hunt left Prison

IV.How many bards gild the lapses of time!

V.To a Friend who sent me some Roses

VI.To G. A. W.

VII.O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell

VIII.To My Brothers

IX.Keen, fitful gusts are whispfring here and there

X.To one who has been long in city pent

XI.On first looking into Chapmanfs Homer

XII.On leaving some Friends at an early Hour

XIII.Addressed to Haydon

XIV.Addressed to the Same

XV.On the Grasshopper and Cricket

XVI.To Kosciusko

XVII.Happy is England! I could be content


gAmong the rest a shepheard (though but young

gYet hartned to his pipe) with all the skill

gHis few yeeres could, began to fit his quill.h

Britanniafs Pastorals.

To George Felton Mathew

To My Brother George

To Charles Cowden Clarke