200th Anniversary

[CasaMagni]

Don't know how long this forum will continue but John Keats will continue as long as English literature.

What are his greatest lines? There will be no agreement on that.

I plump for -

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
Veil'd 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.

"he is only before us on the road, as he is in everything else"