John Keats is one of the most important poets of the XNUMXth century English romanticism, but also from that period around the world. Today they are fulfilled 196 years of his death in Rome. I had 25 years and, as a good romantic poet and a very fragile soul, he fell ill and died of tuberculosis, as before his brother and his mother.

Like so many other British poets and writers I read it in my career and, although poetry is not my thing, sensitivity is. And the verses Keats are immensely beautiful, exuberant and imaginative language and also dominated by melancholy. In other words, a perfect reflection of the one that contained his spirit. From the same literary circle of the time, he, Percy Bysshe Shelley and Lord Byron are possibly the Holy Trinity of the great British romantic poets. 

Some of his biography

John Keats was born on the outskirts of London and, very young, was orphaned of father. His mother remarried, but it did not go well and left her husband. They moved to live with Keats's grandmother in Enfield. When His mother died, the grandmother appointed two guardians who took care of the orphans. These took Keats out of his school and turned him into surgeon apprentice. But he devoted himself more and more to literature. I graduated in Pharmacy, but he only exerted two years before devoting himself fully to poetry.

La greater influence that he had was the work of the XNUMXth century poet Edmund spenser, who inspired his first poem: In imitation of Spenser. He quickly entered the select circle of the most prominent poets of his time, such as Shelley and Lord Byron.

En 1817 published his first collection of poems titled simply poems, who it was not well received. The same thing happened with endymion, his most epic poem. In the middle he lost another brother, which affected him a lot. He decided to move to London, to the home of a friend with whom he had traveled through Scotland and Ireland. But he, too, had already shown the symptoms of the disease.

And that's when he met Fanny brawne, with whom he fell madly in love. He was the one who inspired most of his poems, especially his famous series of odes. When his health deteriorated, he decided to find a climate that could improve it and embarked for Naples. But he died a few months later in Roma. On his grave is this beautiful epitaph: "Here lies someone whose name was written in the water".

Of his work

Is younger of the great British romantics, but also one of the most important lyrics in English language. True that He did not get the recognition he deserved in life, but he did get it later. And so his work is considered enormous expressive purity. I was looking to reach the absolute beauty and no doubt many of his verses have it. Like that of Soft is the night, included in his best known ode, Ode to a nightingale.

But poems like The beautiful lady without mercy, The fall of Hyperion o Over the sea. I personally have always stayed with this Have compassion, mercy, love! But discover the others. Anyway, what better climax for this romantic month of February that is ending.

Have compassion, mercy, love! Love mercy!
Pious love that does not make us suffer without end,
love of a single thought, that you do not ramble,
that you are pure, without masks, without a stain.
Let me have you whole… Be everything, all mine!
That shape, that grace, that little pleasure
of the love that is your kiss ... those hands, those divine eyes
that warm, white, bright, pleasant chest,
even yourself, your soul for mercy give me everything,
don't hold back an atom of an atom or I'll die,
Or if I keep living, just your despicable slave
Forget, in the mist of useless affliction,
the purposes of life, the taste of my mind
getting lost in callousness, and my blind ambition!