Barely six years of writing, ended by tuberculosis at twenty-five, produced some of the most quoted lines in the language.
Keats (1795-1821) trained as a surgeon at Guy's Hospital in London before abandoning medicine for poetry. The reviewers were merciless - Endymion was mauled in 1818 - but the single year 1819 brought The Eve of St Agnes, Lamia, Isabella, the unfinished Hyperion, and the odes to a nightingale, on a Grecian urn, on melancholy and to autumn.
He died in Rome in February 1821 and was buried under a stone bearing no name, only the line he had chosen for it. The Victorians made him a major poet, and the letters he wrote to his brothers and to Fanny Brawne are now read as closely as the poems themselves. This collection brings the poetical works together - the early sonnets, the long narrative poems, the odes of 1819 and the fragments left at his death - with a life of the poet.