Keats In Rome Poem by Ben Littlechild

Keats In Rome



He sleeps now our poetic prince
His halls are silent, his voice no longer reaches our ears.
Yet in these rooms, I feel his heart, his dreams, his soul
his tragic story, on the walls unfolds.
Love lost, love found, a story of brotherhood, friendship eternally bound.
In this fair city he lies, under violets, resting in earth, walked upon by good men.
Alongside Joseph, his friend.

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