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.