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    A Thing of Beauty is a Joy Forever

    by John Keats
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    • Average Rating: 3.3 out of 5 based on 2 ratings
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    A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
    Its loveliness 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-darkened 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;
    All lovely tales that we have heard or read:
    An endless fountain of immortal drink,
    Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.

    Nor do we merely feel these essences
    For one short hour; no, even as the trees
    That whisper round a temple become soon
    Dear as the temple's self, so does the moon,
    The passion poesy, glories infinite,
    Haunt us till they become a cheering light
    Unto our souls, and bound to us so fast
    That, whether there be shine or gloom o'ercast,
    They always must be with us, or we die.

    Therefore, 'tis with full happiness that I
    Will trace the story of Endymion.
    The very music of the name has gone
    Into my being, and each pleasant scene
    Is growing fresh before me as the green
    Of our own valleys: so I will begin
    Now while I cannot hear the city's din;
    Now while the early budders are just new,
    And run in mazes of the youngest hue
    About old forests; while the willow trails
    Its delicate amber; and the dairy pails
    Bring home increase of milk. And, as the year
    Grows lush in juicy stalks, I'll smoothly steer
    My little boat, for many quiet hours,
    With streams that deepen freshly into bowers.
    Many and many a verse I hope to write,
    Before the daisies, vermeil rimmed and white,
    Hide in deep herbage; and ere yet the bees
    Hum about globes of clover and sweet peas,
    I must be near the middle of my story.
    O may no wintry season, bare and hoary,
    See it half finished: but let Autumn bold,
    With universal tinge of sober gold,
    Be all about me when I make an end!
    And now at once, adventuresome, I send
    My herald thought into a wilderness:
    There let its trumpet blow, and quickly dress
    My uncertain path with green, that I may speed
    Easily onward, thorough flowers and weed.
    If you're writing a A Thing of Beauty is a Joy Forever essay and need some advice, post your John Keats essay question on our Facebook page where fellow bookworms are always glad to help!

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