Those green-robed senators of mighty woods, Tall oaks, branch-charmed by the earnest stars, Dream, and so dream all night without a stir.
John Keats (1795 - 1821)
Source: Hyperion. Book i.
Contributed by: Zaady
As though a rose should shut and be a bud again.
Source: The Eve of St. Agnes. Stanza 27.
The silver snarling trumpets 'gan to chide.
Source: The Eve of St. Agnes. Stanza 4.
'Beauty is truth, truth beauty,'-that is all Ye know on earth, and all Ye need to know.
Source: Ode on a Grecian Urn
Happy the people whose annals are blank in history-books.
Source: Life of Frederick the Great. Book xvi. Chap. i.
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.
Source: Ode on a Grecian Urn (1820)
Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time.
Source: Ode on a Grecian Urn.
Thou, silent form, doth tease us out of thought As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
O magic sleep! O comfortable bird, That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind Till it is hush'd and smooth!
So many, and so many, and such glee.
Source: Endymion. Book iv.
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