These are the words John Keats chose to epitomize his short, frustrating, and tragic life. They appear as his epitaph in Rome's Protestant cemetery. Often called the greatest English poet after Shakespeare, Keats had a lifelong preoccupation with early death. This sense of mortality, along with the poet's famous, unrequited love for Fanny Brawne, sparked dozens of finely wThese are the words John Keats chose to epitomize his short, frustrating, and tragic life. They appear as his epitaph in Rome's Protestant cemetery. Often called the greatest English poet after Shakespeare, Keats had a lifelong preoccupation with early death. This sense of mortality, along with the poet's famous, unrequited love for Fanny Brawne, sparked dozens of finely written sonnets and lyrics of love.This beautifully crafted collection contains some of the most heartfelt of Keats' personal poems. "La Belle Dame Sans Merci A Ballad" and "The Eve of St. Agnes" are paragons of the gothic lyric, wherein mysterious lovers, dream visions, and late-night fantasy come magically to life. Lighter verse, such as "Where be ye going, you Devon maid?" and such passionate, pensive poems as "When I have fears that I may cease to be" provide a personal glimpse of the young poet's dreams and dreads.This selection of twenty-six poems also presents an introduction to the life of John Keats, notes on the indivdual poems, and ten illustrations, half of which are of biographical interest and half underscore thematic elements contained in the poems....
|Title||:||The Love Poems of John Keats: In Praise of Beauty|
|Number of Pages||:||80 Pages|
|Status||:||Available For Download|
|Last checked||:||21 Minutes ago!|
The Love Poems of John Keats: In Praise of Beauty Reviews
One of my favorites poets. Breathtakingly beautiful, lyrical works.
What could be more gentle, and even countercultural, than to spend a balmy spring afternoon immersed in the purity and earnestness of John Keats’ tender, intense poetry of love and beauty? Twenty-six seductions — from a young man who, in his very brief life, succeeded in translating all the sweetness and suffering of incomplete romantic love into the pinnacle of English Romantic poetry. In this little volume, ten reproductions of paintings and drawings accompany the poems, including the saucy, intelligent face of Fanny Brawne, his inspiration and fiancée. The pages have deckled edges and a wine-colored ribbon bookmark. The selections traverse a variety of forms and moods, from the long, finely crafted, romantic fantasy in the Spenserian mode of The Eve of St. Agnes to the agonizing What can I do to drive away to light-hearted, flirtatious songs, to sonnets, including this:Bright star! would I were steadfast as thou art—Not in lone splendor hung aloft the nightAnd watching, with eternal lids apart,Like nature’s patient sleepless Eremite,The moving waters at their priestlike taskOf pure ablution round earth’s human shores,Or gazing on the new soft-fallen maskOf snow upon the mountains and the moors—No—yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,Pillowed upon my fair love’s ripening breast,To feel for ever its soft swell and fall,Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,And so live ever—or else swoon to death.
It softens you, to read Keats. His are rounded, gentle, and sultry words-all "breathless" and "bliss" as any great Romantic poet must use-but he uses them to full effect in this small collection of his love poems. He is obviously tortured by his own passions, "O, the sweetness of the pain!" a point to which the Introduction writer (who is the antithesis of Keats-a fast-writing, fact-spewing, Manhattanite) seems to mock at times. Each of Keats' works seems diminished by a description by the historian. You'll read, "For, indeed, 'tis a sweet and peculiar pleasure (And blissful is he who such happiness finds), To possess but a span of the hour of leisure, In elegant, pure and aerial minds" in, "To Some Ladies" and find out (from our favorite Introduction-writer) that it was, "written for his cousins," or how "Fill for me a brimming bowl," was "about a woman he once saw at a park." He certainly succeeds in squashing the romance out of what could be called the most romantic language ever produced, before you ever have a chance to give Keats a chance.I had forgotten how gorgeous Keats can be. In "To Fanny" who was his life long muse, he demonstrates his tortured, loving theme, "Ah, dearest love, sweet home of all my fears." He also pens some of the most beautiful euphemisms in the English language in the epic and visual, "The Eve of St. Agnes" about the quest of Porphyro to not awake the house as he attempts to find and woo the sleeping Madeline. It's beautiful and lilting with descriptions you can almost reach out and touch. Yet, he can be hilarious, too, as in "O blush not so! O blush not so!" when he writes, "And we have the prime of the kissing time,/ We have not one sweet tooth out!"But, it is probably the fatalist in me that most loved, 'When I have fears that I may cease to be." "...then on the shoreOf the wide world I stand alone, and thinkTill love and fame to nothingness do sink"
Though a small compilation in page number, it is a monstrous compilation in soul. The compiler did a wonderful job capturing the best of Keats' love-concerned poetry. And this is true love poetry. Forget Shakespeare's sonnets, folks: Keats actually talks about love, and not through byways like dark ladies, feckless youths, etc. Furthermore, Keats' poetic soul touches on the finest points of the human capacity to love in a beautiful harmony with his own frustrations--a union beautifully featured in the book by way of a thoughtful ordering of the respective pieces. Plus, it isn't one of those often dreaded poetry anthologies which can divert reader interest. Instead, it is a deceptively small book hiding a huge heart. And there is nothing better to find as a reader than that!
i enjoyed what i "got". i'd definitely re-read it to get what i didn't
the diaries of a 19th century fuckboy. lite gullig ändå
I have not written a review for poetry, and in some ways feel out of my element in doing so. A man in his humble bedroom attempting to critique John Keats' words is much like a member of the audience jumping onto the stage and telling Frank Sinatra that he didn't sing "New York, New York" properly. I feel that any discussion or critique of Keats' work must begin with background on Mr. Keats himself. Having died of Tuberculosis at age 26, his work was done at a very young age. There is no one today who can truly attest to his feelings and thoughts while he was alive, as it was so long ago. Therefore, it is my belief that any discussion on the subject is entirely objective, and nothing can be taken more than opinion, based on what written works we are lucky enough to possess today. The Love Poems of John Keats is a small collection of Keats' work. Though almost the entirety of his work is based on themes of love and the emotions that often accompany it, there is much more to see outside this collection. His letters to Fanny, the woman with whom he was insatiably infatuated, can be found in alternate collections, for instanceJohn Keats Selected Letters. However, this small, hardcover book presents a value for it's cost. Not quite pocket-sized, the binding includes a yellow ribbon bookmark; a small touch which is appreciated. While there are complete Keats poetry collections, this is the most impressive presentation of his efforts.I would not claim John Keats to be a "master" or "expert" on love. Those that are so impressed with his words that they do not see through them miss out on understanding the young man who wrote them. Mr. Keats suffers from the same foibles and faults as men who live now, 200 years after his death. He is jealous and insecure; "Who now, with greedy looks, eats upon my feast? What stare now outfaces my silver moon!" as well as angsty; "Fill for me a brimming bowl, and in it let me drown my soul: But put therein some drug, designed, To banish woman from my mind". This collection is more than enough for the casual reader, and if one is looking for a solid introduction to one of the most famous romantic poets history has to offer, I could not recommend better. It is not to say that all Keats had to say was sad or negative. He offered many poems which were both about longing as well as overwhelming love. Bright Star, for instance, is one of his most famous; "Pillowed upon my fair love's ripening breast, to feel for ever it's soft swell and fall..." as well as his final poem and ode to the woman he longed for, whom illness forced him far away from, To Fanny; "Ah! Dearest love, sweet home of all my fears, And hopes, and joys, and panting miseries". In closing I will recommend that if you enjoy this collection of poetry, to consider Keats' collection of love letters to Fanny Brawne, which have been preserved and published multiple times. As well, I would recommend the film based on his brief life and love, Bright Star, which has been available for six years as of the date of this review.
Has anyone noticed that the second line in "Fill for me a brimming bowl" from this book differs from a few online references.In this book it is written as "And let me in it drown my soul:"While here http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/fill-f...It is written as"And in it let me drown my soul:"I realize that this book is from a legitimate publisher and that I am comparing it's version to that from a poem website. Although this is poetry, and it's style is usually subjective, but I can't help but feel the second line to be more appropriate. Keats wrote in English of course, so there's no question of differing translations. I wonder if anyone can clarify this for me.
Where's the Poet? show him! show him,Muses nine! that I may know him.'Tis the man who with a manIs an equal, be he King,Or poorest of the beggar-clanOr any other wonderous thingA man may be 'twixt ape and Plato;'Tis the man who with a bird,Wren or Eagle, finds his way toAll its instincts; he hath heardThe Lion's roaring, and can tellWhat his horny throat expresseth,And to him the Tiger's yellCome articulate and pressethOr his ear like mother-tongue.
I really love this little compilation. I want to re-read it because I know this is a book to read it several times to capture every single detail.