Treasure Island

Oscar Wilde

(1854-1900 / Dublin / Ireland)

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.

Submitted: Friday, May 18, 2001

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?



Read poems about / on: funeral, memory, tree, green, water, pain, world, god, life, heart

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (The Grave Of Keats by Oscar Wilde )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..
[Hata Bildir]