POET to poet gave this mask, of him Who sang the song of Rapture and Despair; Who to the Nightingale was kin; aware Of all the Night's enamouring -- the dim Strange ecstasy of light at the moon's rim; The unheard melodies that subtly snare The listening soul -- Pan's wayward pipes that dare To conjure shapes now beautiful, now grim. He who this life-mask prized so tenderly Might not behold the semblance that it wore, The charm ineffable -- now sweet, now sad: But well he knew what loveliness must be Upon the face of Keats for evermore, And with his spirit's gaze saw and was glad. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FAREWELL TO HIS WIFE by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE AGED LOVER RENOUNCETH LOVE by THOMAS VAUX THE KITTEN AND THE FALLING LEAVES by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE MORAL FABLES: THE PROLOG by AESOP MY HERO; TO ROBERT GOULD SHAW by BENJAMIN GRIFFITH BRAWLEY IN THREE DAYS by ROBERT BROWNING LA PUCELLE DE VERCHERES by GEORGE HERBERT CLARKE |