A thing of beauty (Endymion)
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its lovliness increases, it will never
Pass into nothingness, but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkn'd ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in, and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
'Gainst the hot season, the mid-forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.
John Keats
(1795-1821)
Its lovliness increases, it will never
Pass into nothingness, but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkn'd ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in, and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
'Gainst the hot season, the mid-forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.
John Keats
(1795-1821)
"A grande beleza da poesia é que faz cada coisa e cada lugar interessante"
John Keats a seu irmão George, 1819
John Keats a seu irmão George, 1819
John Keats (Londres, 31 de outubro de 1795 - Roma, 23 de fevereiro de 1821) foi um poeta inglês. Considerado um dos maiores nomes do romantismo na Inglaterra. Sua obra divide-se entre as frequentes referências à morte e um intenso sentimento de prazer com a vida. Sua poesia é marcada pelo sentimentalismo romântico, por imagens vibrantes, de grande apelo sensual, e pela expressão de aspectos da Filosofia clássica.
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