Richard Baldwin Cook
Keats wrote aware of his foreshortened life. By way of intuitive reading, Keats shaped for himself a gift of plain words in the service of sensual longing. Keats wrote in staccato snatches. His best is his shortest; his best is among the best. Keats did not have time to work out a sustaining sensibility, which accounts for his renown. We honor his promise, the lightening flash of genius.