The Death of John Keats

His soul enraptured in streams of beauty

Perished in flowing ribbons of aspiration

Struggling for the breath of pure eternity

Written on the water of divine inspiration

Gathered from life’s sweet finite journey

Into realms of undiscovered imagination

His heaven bound soul to earth was born

A nativity in the stable of purest humility

The beautiful guest amidst critical scorn

Struggling for life and liberty’s company

Penning those dreams that dwell forever

On the soul and flesh of living creatures

Delivered from burdening useless sorrow

Unleashed by realms of golden virgin joy

In deaths song he beheld a beautiful dawn.