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Henry Van Dyke - Keats
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The melancholy gift Aurora gained
     From Jove, that her sad lover should not see
     The face of death, no goddess asked for thee, 
My Keats! But when the crimson blood-drop stained
Thy pillow, thou didst read the fate ordained, —
     Brief life, wild love, a flight of poesy! 
     And then, — a shadow fell on Italy:
Thy star went down before its brightness waned, 

Yet thou hast won the gift Tithonus missed:
     Never to feel the pain of growing old,
     Nor lose the blissful sight of beauty`s truth, 
But with the ardent lips that music kissed
     To breathe thy song, and, ere thy heart grew cold,
     Become the Poet of Immortal Youth.
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