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 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
402
XX. TO KEATS.
Peace, peace, or mourn the living! Ye but holdA shadow to your bosoms. He hath quaffed
Glory and Death in one immortal draught;
Surely among the undying men of old
Numbered art thou, great Heart; in heaven enrolled
Among the eternal Splendours that rain forth
Love, light, and peace on our unquiet earth,
O latest radiance of the starry fold.
Below, thou liv'st, a consecrated name;
Above, with naked feet unscorched and hair
Unsinged thou walkest through that fierce white fire
Which mantles like a robe of golden air
Homer and Shakespeare, and the burning choir,
Rejoicing in the fullness of thy fame.
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |