5 john keats poems | odes series | theme | analysis

john keats poems : If you are looking for best john keats poems or odes series poems. So we have world famous 5 john keats poems from ode series. With themes and analysis.

john keats

john-keats-poems

John keats was the leading romantic poet of British literature. He lost the entire family due to tuberculosis. In the end, the same disease led to his death at the age of 24 years. He gained fame after his death and is known as the most classical poet in the world.

To understand the journey of his poetic life, 3 years can be divided into sections:

(1817) :

This year was the first year of John’s poetic life when he began writing. In the same year, he published the first book of poems. But critics humiliated him and called his works childish. Works :

  • Imitation of spenser
  • On Death
  • On hope
  • I stood tiptoe
  • Sleep and poetry

(1818) :

This year, John tried again and wrote a romantic poem (Endymion)(the think of beauty ) that became very popular. The poem encouraged his poetic life that his brother Tom passed away, causing his depression. extended.

(1819-20) :

The period of these years greatly influenced John’s life. At the beginning of this period, he fell in love with a girl, Fanny Brawn, which gave him more encouragement in the article and he did many compositions. But at the end of the year 1820, Italy went because the atmosphere there was relatively warm. He was confident that he would return as soon as the disease improved. But in Italy in February 1821. He died. Notable works:

  • Eve of St. Agnes
  • Isabella
  • Hyperion
  • Lamina
  • ( from ode series ⬇️ )
  • to the psyche
  • at the gloom
  • on a Grecian urn
  • on Indolence
  • to a nightingale
  • to Autumn

John also wrote a sonnet in which he described the pain of death, which is known as “when I have fears”.

Some of his unfinished work:
  • St. Mark’s Eve
  • Hyperion Fall
  • Otho : A Poetry Drama

John keats poems

1. John keats poems – ode to psyche

john-keats-poems
Theme :

John keats was the youngest poet in the world to lead a more struggling life and to leave the world at an early age. He is known as the most classical romantic poet in the world.

John had more tendency in Greek myth. He was more curious in reading about gods and writing on the basis of his love. His world famous ode to ode to psyche poem is based on the love of psyche and cupid, goddess of the Greek myth in which psyche deviates to meet his cupid. is. The goddess (psyche) finally meets her love (cupid) by praying to Zeus and giving his suggestion.

Poem :

Stanza – 1

O Goddess! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung

By sweet enforcement and remembrance dear,

And pardon that thy secrets should be sung

Even into thine own soft-conched ear:

Surely I dreamt to-day, or did I see

The winged Psyche with awakened eyes?

I wandered in a forest thoughtlessly,

And, on the sudden, fainting with surprise,

Saw two fair creatures, couched side by side

In deepest grass, beneath the whispering roof

Of leaves and trembled blossoms, where there ran

A brooklet, scarce espied:

Stanza – 2

Mid hushed, cool-rooted flowers, fragrant-eyed,

Blue, silver-white, and budded Tyrian,

They lay calm-breathing, on the bedded grass;

Their arms embraced, and their pinions too;

Their lips touched not, but had not bade adieu,

As if disjoined by soft-handed slumber,

And ready still past kisses to outnumber

At tender eye-dawn of aurora love:

The winged boy I knew;

But who wast thou, O happy, happy dove?

His Psyche true!

Stanza – 3

O latest born and loveliest vision far

Of all Olympus’ faded hierarchy!

Fairer than sapphire-region’s star,

Or Vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky;

Fairer than these, though temple thou hast none,

Nor altar heaped with flowers;

Nor virgin-choir to make delicious moan

Upon the midnight hours;

No voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet

From chain-swung censer teeming;

No shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heat

Of pale-mouthed prophet dreaming.

Stanza – 4

O brightest! though too late for antique vows,

Too, too late for the fond believing lyre,

When holy were the haunted forest boughs,

Holy the air, the water, and the fire;

Yet even in these days so far retired

From happy pieties, thy lucent fans,

Fluttering among the faint Olympians,

I see, and sing, by my own eyes inspired.

So let me be thy choir, and make a moan

Upon the midnight hours;

Thy voice, thy lute, thy pipe, thy incense sweet

From swinged censer teeming;

Thy shrine, thy grove, thy oracle, thy heat

Of pale-mouthed prophet dreaming.

Stanza – 5

Yes, I will be thy priest, and build a fane

In some untrodden region of my mind,

Where branched thoughts, new grown with pleasant pain,

Instead of pines shall murmur in the wind:

Far, far around shall those dark-clustered trees

Fledge the wild-ridged mountains steep by steep;

And there by zephyrs, streams, and birds, and bees,

The moss-lain Dryads shall be lulled to sleep;

And in the midst of this wide quietness

A rosy sanctuary will I dress

the wreathed trellis of a working brain,

buds, and bells, and stars without a name,

all the gardener Fancy ever could feign,

Who breeding flowers, will never breed the same:

And there shall be for thee all soft delight

That shadowy thought can win,

A bright torch, and a casement ope at night,

To let the warm Love in!

2. John keats poems – ode on grecian urn

john-keats-poems

Theme :

John keats was the youngest poet in the world to lead a more struggling life and to leave the world at an early age. He is known as the most classical romantic poet in the world.

He wrote this poem of John in 1819. john was very fond of seeing historical things. When he went to visit historical museum of London. Then there he showed a fine carved urn whose three beautiful pictures were made in all three ways.

In this poem, he humanized the beauty of the urn. In the end, the mentality she is famous for is gone – “Beauty is truth, truth beauty”.

Poem :

Stanza – 1

Thou still unravished bride of quietness,

Thou foster-child of silence and slow

time,

Sylvan historian, who canst thus express

A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:

What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape

Of deities or mortals, or of both,

In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?

men or gods are these? maidens loth?

mad pursuit? struggle to escape?

pipes and timbrels? wild ecstasy?

Stanza – 2

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard

Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;

Not to the sensual ear, but, more endeared,

Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:

Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave

Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;

Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,

Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve;

She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,

For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

Stanza – 3

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed

Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;

And, happy melodist, unwearied,

For ever piping songs for ever new;

More happy love! more happy, happy love!

For ever warm and still to be enjoyed,

For ever panting, and for ever young;

All breathing human passion far above,

That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloyed.

A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

Stanza – 4

Who are these coming to the sacrifice?

To what green altar, O mysterious priest,

Least thou that heifer lowing at the skies,

And all her silken flanks with garlands driest?

What little town by river or sea shore,

Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,

Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?

And, little town, thy streets for evermore

Will silent be; and not a soul to tell

Why thou art desolate, can ever return.

Stanza – 5

O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with bred

Of marble men and maidens overwrought,

With forest branches and the trodden weed;

Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought

As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!

When old age shall this generation waste,

Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe

Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou says,

“Beauty is truth, truth beauty,-that is all

Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.”

3. John keats poems – ode to a Nightingale

john-keats-poems

Theme :

John keats was the youngest poet in the world. Who lead a more struggling life and to leave the world at an early age. He known as the most classical romantic poet in the world.

John wrote the main center in this poem or this poem as the basis for the cuckoo. In this poem of his, he imagines by losing in his sweetness the good fortune of the cuckoo and the misfortune of man. At the beginning of the poem, the poet gets drunk with the voice of the cuckoo and forgets everything. Moving forward like this, he counts the good for the cuckoo and the evils of man. In the end when the cuckoo blows away the noise, the poet returns to reality.

Poem :

Stanza – 1

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains

My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,

Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains

One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:

‘Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,

But being too happy in thine happiness,–

That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees

In some melodious plot

Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,

Sing of summer in full-throated ease.

Stanza – 2

O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been

Cooled a long age in the deep-delved earth,

Tasting of Flora and the country green,

Dance, and Provenance song, and sunburnt mirth!

O for a beaker full of the warm South,

Full of the true, the blushful Hippocree.

With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,

And purple-stained mouth;

That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,

And with thee fade away into the forest dim:

Stanza – 3

Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget

What thou among the leaves hast never known,

The weariness, the fever, and the fret

Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;

palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,

youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;

but to think is to be full of sorrow

And leaden-eyed despairs,

Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,

Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.

Stanza – 4

Away! away! for I will fly to thee,

Not charioteer by Bacchus and his pards,

But on the viewless wings of Poesy,

Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:

Already with thee! tender is the night,

And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,

Clustered around by all her starry Fays;

But here there is no light,

Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown

Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.

Stanza – 5

I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,

Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,

But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet

Wherewith the seasonable month endows

The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;

White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;

Fast fading violets covered up in leaves;

And mid-May’s eldest child,

The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,

The murmurs haunt of flies on summer eves.

Stanza – 6

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time

I have been half in love with easeful Death,

Called him soft names in many a mused rhyme,

To take into the air my quiet breath;

Now more than ever seems it rich to die,

To cease upon the midnight with no pain,

While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad

In such an ecstasy!

Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain–

To thy high requiem become a sod.

Stanza – 7

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!

No hungry generations tread thee down;

The voice I hear this passing night was heard

In ancient days by emperor and clown:

Perhaps the self-same song that found a path

Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,

She stood in tears amid the alien corn;

The same that oft-times hath

Charmed magic casements, opening on the foam

Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.

Stanza – 8

Forlorn! the very word is like a bell

To toll me back from thee to my sole self!

Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well

As she is famed to do, deceiving elf.

Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades

Past the near meadows, over the still stream,

Up the hill-side; and now ’tis buried deep

In the next valley-glades:

Was it a vision, or a waking dream?

Fled is that music:–Do I wake or sleep?

4. John keats poems – ode to autumn

john-keats-poems

Theme :

John Keats was the youngest poet in the world to lead a more struggling life and to leave the world at an early age. He is known as the most classical romantic poet in the world.

John was also a nature lover poet. In this poem it was written fully describing. The beauty of Autumn and its characteristics. He made the basis of this poem in the autumn only because Autumn in London is like a boon.

In this poem, he described the natural beauty in 3 stanzas. Prakrit has also been humanized in this poem. She has depicted autumn as a beautiful woman in nature. Finally, the process of the creatures enjoying this natural beauty is shown.

Poem :

Stanza – 1

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,

Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;

Conspiring with him how to load and bless

With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;

To bend with apples the missed cottage-trees,

And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;

To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells

With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,

And still more, later flowers for the bees,

Until they think warm days will never cease,

For Summer has o’er-brimmed their clammy cell.

Stanza – 2

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?

Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find

Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,

Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;

Or on a half-reaped furrow sound asleep,

Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook

Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers;

And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep

Steady thy laden head across a brook;

Or by a cider-press, with patient look,

Thou watches the last oozing, hours by hours.

Stanza – 3

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?

Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—

While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,

And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;

Then in a wilful choir, the small gnats mourn

Among the river sallows, borne aloft

Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;

And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;

Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft

The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft,

And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

5. John keats poems – ode on melancholy

john-keats-poems

Theme :

John Keats was the youngest poet in the world to lead a more struggling life and to leave the world at an early age. He is known as the most classical romantic poet in the world.

John endured and overcame many struggles in his life from childhood to the end. Death of parents in childhood, demotivate by critics in poetic life. Then death of a returning brother. In the end, the death of the disease which gave them so much pain. It can be said in summary. If you see a person in life, there is sorrow on every path, then a person should not run away from them. He should be embraced with courage.

This is the essence of the poem ode on melancholy of john’s world famous ode series. In which he has described the meaning of the word melancholy to struggle misery.

Poem :

Stanza – 1

No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist

Wolf’s-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;

Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kissed

By nightshade, ruby grape of Prosper pine ;

Make not your rosary of yew-berries,

Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be

Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl

A partner in your sorrow’s mysteries;

For shade to shade will come too drowsily,

And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.

Stanza – 2

But when the melancholy fit shall fall

Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,

That fosters the droop-headed flowers all,

And hides the green hill in an April shroud;

Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose,

on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave,

on the wealth of globed peonies;

Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,

Impression her soft hand, and let her rave,

And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.

Stanza – 3

She dwells with Beauty–Beauty that must die;

And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips

Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh,

Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips:

Ay, in the very temple of Delight

Veiled Melancholy has her sovran shrine,

Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue

Can burst Joy’s grape against his palate fine;

His soul shalt taste the sadness of her might,

And be among her cloudy trophies hung.

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