Poem 'On the Death of Keats'

[hughmc29]

'On the Death of Keats'
(By Hugh McFadden)

Confined in space you lay
dying, consumed by life:
From the steps of flowers
the aroma stifled your last breath.
Around your withering frame
a final mist came to your mind,
Enfield's cricket fields far behind.
And the drooping violet lay
on your brow, day-weary.
In an Italian room you died
in Ara Coeli, among Pan, Ceres
and Diana's friend, the hound.
You are not lost, as you knew,
but numbered anong the saints:
Anglican, Catholic. Orthodox and Jew.
Now one with the immortal ashes
you are at rest at last.
Writ in water and in cloud ...
Keats, sensitive, angelic and proud.

[Hugh McFadden]

[Saturn]

Nice one Hugh, welcome on board the forum.

[BrokenLyre]

Indeed, welcome to the Forum. Thoroughly enjoyed savoring your "take" of Keats.

[Raphael]

Welcome and thanks for sharing your poem- it captures something of his last days.