Fame, like a wayward Giri, will still be coy
The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!
O! Were I one of the Olympian twelve
To the Ladies who Saw Me Crown’d
A Prophecy: to George Keats in America
Song: Spirit here that reignest!
I Stood Tip-toe Upon a Little Hill
To One Who Has Been Long in City Pent
Keen, Fitful Gusts are Whisp’ring Here and There
Lines Supposed to Have Been Addressed to Fanny Brawne
Specimen of an Induction to a Poem
O Solitude! If I Must With Thee Dwell
Song of Four Faeries - Fire, Air, Earth, and Water -
How fever’d is the man, who cannot look
On Receiving a Curious Shell, And a Copy of Verses, From the Same Ladies
Life of John Keats by Sidney Colvin