He walked to Hampstead Heath
wearing his Broad Hat;
the Linnell children waited at the gate,
with them, he became a child again.
Months and months passed,
of ailments and debilitations.
He had to go by cabriolet.
Fuseli died,
Flaxman died
before him.
Death is
'but a removing
from one room to another.'
* * * * *
[I had to wait a while
before I could bring myself
to the reading of the last lines.]
* * * * *
He worked on:
Dante and the Bible,
'The Last Judgement, '
Jerusalem,
'the Ancient of Days, '
and, yes
(journeyman still) ,
a visiting card for George Cumberland.
In the ultimate hour,
he drew a portrait
of his Kate,
'you have ever been an angel to me, '
sang joyous songs,
'no - they are not mine, '
told her he would be with her always.
And so it was.
And ever shall be.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem