I read the Selected Poems of John Keats published in 1993 by Gramercy Books. I did read all the poems, sonnets, longer poems....Hyperion, Lamia. Instead of writing synopsis of each poem, I am writing a general review of Keats. His mastery of language thrills the mind. Reading silently or aloud, it is difficult not to have a romantic surreal feeling coarse through your veins.
Keats has a fascination with the fantastic, the surreal, the fantasy. It is reasonable to make this claim because Keats did die young from consumption I believe. It's been a long time since my English class on Keats but I know that death was imminent for him.
Perhaps that is why his tone and syntax is so bated, breathless, with a sense of urgency. It feels like he has a desperate need to capture the beauty in life before the fleeting moment passes. This is why he writes on seeing various objects, reading things, even stepping in to Burns' cottage. Keats can't get enough of life and he wants to capture it before time runs out.
What a beautiful sentiment. He truly understood YOLO. And he tried very hard to fit it into all that he penned. These poems were an easy ready for me but I think that has something to do with the fact that I have read them extensively in college and squeezed out every possible meaning I could in those eternally long papers required to receive a diploma. It was more enjoyable to read them with no limit or imposed meaning pushed on me. Reading Keats for the sake of reading Keats is a wonderful past time that helps you fall in love with the world again. Even if it just a cat you see crossing your way.
5 down. 195 to go! Onward! Onward I say!
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