Date: 1818

"And then in quiet circles did they press / The hillock turf, and caught the latter end / Of some strange history, potent to send / A young mind from its bodily tenement."

— Keats, John (1795-1821)

Date: 1818

"Great Muse, thou know'st what prison, / Of flesh and bone, curbs, and confines, and frets / Our spirit's wings."

— Keats, John (1795-1821)

Date: 1818

Thought may be wooed "to steal about the labyrinth in the soul"

— Keats, John (1795-1821)

Date: 1820

"Yes, I will be thy priest, and build a fane / In some untrodden region of my mind."

— Keats, John (1795-1821)

Date: 1820

The heart is "Love's fev-rous citadel"

— Keats, John (1795-1821)

Date: 1820

"How to entangle, trammel up and snare / Your soul in mine, and labyrinth you there / Like the hid scent in an unbudded rose?"

— Keats, John (1795-1821)

Date: August 16, 1820

"My Imagination is a Monastery and I am its Monk--you must explain my metap^cs to yourself."

— Keats, John (1795-1821)