St. Agnes' Eve — Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen grass, And silent w… - John Keats

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St. Agnes' Eve — Ah, bitter chill it was!
The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold;
The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen grass,
And silent was the flock in woolly fold.

English
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About John Keats

John Keats (October 31, 1795 – February 23, 1821) was one of the principal poets of the English Romantic movement.

Biography information from Wikiquote

Also Known As

Alternative Names: Adonaïs Adonais
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Additional quotes by John Keats

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 mouths sips:

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Better to lose your ego to the one you love, than to lose your love because of your ego

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