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Dante Gabriel Rossetti - John Keats
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THE weltering London ways where children weep
And girls whom none call maidens laugh,—strange road
Miring his outward steps, who inly trode
The bright Castalian brink and Latmos` steep:—
Even such his life`s cross-paths; till deathly deep
He toiled through sands of Lethe; and long pain,
Weary with labour spurned and love found vain,
In dead Rome`s sheltering shadow wrapped his sleep.
O pang-dowered Poet, whose reverberant lips
And heart-strung lyre awoke the Moon`s eclipse,—
Thou whom the daisies glory in growing o`er,—
Their fragrance clings around thy name, not writ
But rumour`d in water, while the fame of it
Along Time`s flood goes echoing evermore.
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