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John Keats
John Keats
Born in 1795, John Keats was an English Romantic poet and author of three poems considered to be among the finest in the English language...
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FURTHER READING
Related Poems
On Seeing the Elgin Marbles
by John Keats
Refusing at Fifty-Two to Write Sonnets
by Thomas Lynch
Related Prose
Notes on Ekphrasis
by Alfred Corn
Other Ekphrastic Poems
Purgatorio, Canto X
by Dante Alighieri
The Iliad, Book XVIII, [The Shield of Achilles]
by Homer
a woman peeling apples, with a small child
by Pattie McCarthy
All those Attempts in the Changing Room!
by Anne Stevenson
Archaic Torso of Apollo
by Rainer Maria Rilke
Die Muhle Brennt--Richard
by Richard Matthews
Hagar in the Wilderness
by Tyehimba Jess
In a Blue Wood
by Richard Levine
Incomplete Lioness
by Linda Bierds
Joseph Cornell, with Box
by Michael Dumanis
Landscape With The Fall of Icarus
by William Carlos Williams
M. Degas Teaches Art & Science at Durfee Intermediate School, Detroit 1942
by Philip Levine
Mural with HUD Housing & School Bus (1980)
by Adrian Matejka
Museum Guard
by David Hernandez
Ode on a Grecian Urn
by John Keats
On Seeing Larry Rivers' Washington Crossing the Delaware at the Museum of Modern Art
by Frank O'Hara
On Seeing the Elgin Marbles
by John Keats
On the Medusa of Leonardo Da Vinci in the Florentine Gallery
by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Photograph of People Dancing in France
by Leslie Adrienne Miller
Seeing All the Vermeers
by Alfred Corn
Stealing The Scream
by Monica Youn
The Abolition of Reality [Georges Seurat]
by Adriano Spatola
The Family Photograph
by Vona Groarke
The Mad Potter
by John Hollander
The Man with the Hoe
by Edwin Markham
The Painting
by John Balaban
The Picture of Little T. C. in a Prospect of Flowers
by Andrew Marvell
The Shield of Achilles
by W. H. Auden
War Photograph
by Kate Daniels
Why knowing is (& Matisse's Woman with a Hat)
by Martha Ronk
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To Haydon with a Sonnet Written on Seeing the Elgin Marbles

 
by John Keats

Haydon! Forgive me, that I cannot speak 
   Definitively on these mighty things; 
   Forgive me that I have not Eagle's wings— 
That what I want I know not where to seek: 
And think that I would not be over meek 
   In rolling out upfollow'd thunderings, 
   Even to the steep of Helciconian springs, 
Were I of ample strength for such a freak—
Think too that all those numbers should be thine; 
   Whose else? In this who touch thy vesture's hem? 
For when men star'd at what was most divine 
   With browless idiotism—o'erwise phlegm— 
Thou hadst beheld the Hesperean shine 
   Of their star in the East, and gone to worship them. 



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