Explore "The Grave of Keats" by Oscar Wilde on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
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.