No one really has a sensible definition of The Romantics. How could they? The range of personalities and poetry and political and spiritual opinion was simply enormous. Most people, I think, confuse the idea of the Romantic, with the notion of sentimentality. No one who has ever read Wordsworth's grief, could for a moment think him sentimental. There is nothing sentimental about Mary Shelley's view of human beings in Frankenstein, and though Elisabeth Barrett Browning was inclined to celebrate her love of Robert right fulsomely there are those of us who reading his works and of his history are inclined to agree with her that he was pretty special. This is the era that gave rise to the notion of the poet starving in a garret for his love, yet there is nothing wispy or frail about Keats sensuous celebration of the seasons, Shelley's great odes, or Byron's incredible rhyming heroics. 
In some way each of these poets put into practice the ideals they espoused. Byron the romantic went to Greece and worked for his dreams, and that is only one example. 

These people - different as they were, rejected the old narrowness of attitude, in poetry as in other things. They responded to the French Revolution, had the courage to change their minds, were fascinated by the sense of mystery, of the creative spirit, and celebrated both humour and pathos. 

This period marks a revolution in poetic language, against convention and towards the rhythms of 'ordinary speech'. 

It's of no use telling you that these poets are among my very favourite authors, for the same could be said of a great many others. But I will say that the poetry of Keats, Wordsworth, Shelley was among the first that I ever read and delighted in, and found myself returning to again and again. Before them only Robert Louis Stevenson's Child's Garden of verses had anything like the long term loyalty and pleasure that these poets had. 

I hope that this section can, eventually, begin to provide a small taste of what that delightful range might be.