The Grave Of Keats
Rid of the world's injustice, and his pain, He rests at last beneath God's veil of blue: Taken from life when life and love were new The youngest of the martyrs here is lain, Fair as Sebastian, and as early slain. No cypress shades his grave, no funeral yew, But gentle violets weeping with the dew Weave on his bones an ever-blossoming chain. O proudest heart that broke for misery! O sweetest lips since those of Mitylene! O poet-painter of our English Land! Thy name was writ in water it shall stand: And tears like mine will keep thy memory green, As Isabella did her Basil-tree. ROME.
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"Rid of the world's injustice, and his pain,..."
Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde's contribution to classic is further solidified by the brilliance found in "The Grave Of Keats"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...