John Keats

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"Keats" redirects here. For the contemporary author, see Jonathan Keates. For other uses,
see Keats (disambiguation).

John Keats

Portrait of John Keats by William Hilton.National Portrait Gallery,

London
Born

31 October 1795
Moorgate, London,England

Died

23 February 1821(aged 25)

Rome, Papal States

Occupation

Poet

Alma mater

King's College London

Literary movement

Romanticism

John Keats (/kits/; 31 October 1795 23 February 1821) was an English Romantic poet. He
was one of the main figures of the second generation of Romantic poets along with Lord
Byron and Percy Bysshe Shelley despite his work having been in publication for only four years
before his death.[1]
Although his poems were not generally well received by critics during his life, his reputation grew
after his death, so that by the end of the 19th century, he had become one of the most beloved of
all English poets. He had a significant influence on a diverse range of poets and writers. Jorge

Luis Borges stated that his first encounter with Keats was the most significant literary experience
of his life.[2]
The poetry of Keats is characterised by sensual imagery most notably in the series of odes.
Today his poems and letters are some of the most popular and most analysed in English
literature.

JOHN KEATS TIMELINE

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How It All Went Down

Oct 31, 1795

John Keats Born

John Keats is born near London, the first of five children of stable keeper Thomas Keats and
Frances Jennings Keats.
1802

Brother Dies
Keats' infant brother Edward dies.
1803

Starts School
Keats begins his studies at a small school in Enfield, England, run by a man named John Clarke.
Apr 16, 1804

Father Dies
Thomas Keats is thrown from a horse and dies of a fractured skull. John's mother, now a widow
with four surviving children, remarries later the same year.
1805

Mother Disappears
Keats' mother abandons the family and disappears for three and a half years, leaving the
children with their grandmother. Ten-year-old John suffers from chronic anxiety.
1809

Mother Returns
Keats' mother returns to the family, sick with tuberculosis and rheumatism. Keats nurses her.
Mar 1810

Mother Dies
Frances Jennings Keats dies of tuberculosis, the disease that eventually claims two of her sons.
She leaves the children in the care of their grandmother. The grandmother signs over care of the
children to a guardian, Richard Abbey, who takes the children's inheritance money for himself.
1811

Leaves School
Abbey pulls Keats from his studies at Enfield and apprentices him to a surgeon in nearby
Edmonton. Keats studies at night with Charles Cowden Clarke, a sympathetic administrator at
the school who sees his potential.
1815

Starts Medical School

After four years as an apprentice, Keats begins his medical studies at Guy's Hospital in London.
Privately, he has started to write poetry.
Oct 1816

Becomes Serious About Poetry

Keats meets the poet Leigh Hunt, who encourages him, introduces him to other poets (including
Percy Bysshe Shelley) and becomes an important influence on his work.
Dec 1816

Leaves Medicine
Keats decides to abandon his medical career for good so that he can focus on his poetry.
Richard Abbey is furious and the two have a falling-out.
Mar 3, 1817

First Poems Published

Keats' first poetry collection, a volume simply entitled Poems, is published.

Jul 1818

Walking Tour
Keats embarks on a six-week walking tour of England and Scotland with his friend Charles
Armitage Brown. His brother Thomas is ill with tuberculosis, but Keats is assured that he will
survive his journey.
Nov 28, 1818

Finishes Endymion
Keats completes Endymion, his first major long poem. The poem begins with the immortal line,
"A thing of beauty is a joy forever."29
Dec 1, 1818

Brother Dies
Keats' beloved brother Thomas dies of tuberculosis at the age of 19.
1819

Meets Fanny Brawne

After his brother's death, Keats moves in with his friend Charles Brown in the Hampstead
neighborhood of London. There, he meets and soon falls in love with his neighbor, Fanny
Brawne. By the end of the year, the couple is engaged. This is a year of ups and downs for Keats
- he writes many of his best poems, including the famousOdes, but also battles depression and
the first symptoms of tuberculosis.
Feb 3, 1820

Tuberculosis Appears
Keats has a lung hemorrhage, the first serious symptom of the tuberculosis that will eventually
take his life. When the second one happens a few months later, he moves into Leigh Hunt's
house, where Fanny nurses him.
Jul 1820

Final Poems Published

Keats' final volume of poetry, Lamia, Isabella, The Eve of St Agnes and Other Poems, is
published to strong reviews.
Sep 17, 1820

Sails for Italy

Keats' doctor informs him that his lungs will not survive an English winter. Keats bids Fanny
Brawne a painful farewell and sails to Italy with his friend, the painter Joseph Severn.
Feb 23, 1821

John Keats dies.

John Keats dies of tuberculosis at the age of 25 in Rome. He is buried in the Protestant
cemetery. Percy Bysshe Shelley writes the poem Adonais as an elegy for him.

Poetry

On the Sea
It keeps eternal whisperings around
Desolate shores, and with its mighty swell
Gluts twice ten thousand caverns, till the spell
Of Hecate leaves them their old shadowy sound.
Often 'tis in such gentle temper found,
That scarcely will the very smallest shell
Be moved for days from whence it sometime fell,
When last the winds of heaven were unbound.
Oh ye! who have your eye-balls vexed and tired,
Feast them upon the wideness of the Sea;
Oh ye! whose ears are dinned with uproar rude,
Or fed too much with cloying melody, Sit ye near some old cavern's mouth, and brood
Until ye start, as if the sea-nymphs choired!

A Thing of Beauty is a Joy Forever

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.