---

Sara Teasdale - For The Anniversary Of John Keats` Death
Work rating: Low

At midnight, when the moonlit cypress trees 
Have woven round his grave a magic shade, 
Still weeping the unfinished hymn he made, 
There moves fresh Maia, like a morning breeze 
Blown over jonquil beds when warm rains cease. 
And stooping where her poet`s head is laid, 
Selene weeps, while all the tides are stayed, 
And swaying seas are darkened into peace. 
But they who wake the meadows and the tides 
Have hearts too kind to bid him wake from sleep, 
Who murmurs sometimes when his dreams are deep, 
Startling the Quiet Land where he abides, 
And charming still sad-eyed Persephone 
With visions of the sunny earth and sea.
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.