The Dead Poets Poem by Matthew Holloway

I envy the dead poets
Those idols I aspire to
Someday become compared
How beautiful their words
Still speak in the years after
They are revered and admired
Held aloft in such acclaim
And all they know is peace
The silent rest of the grave
Where flowers are laid

They spoke of such love
And passion I felt in me
It was as though they saw me
And decided to paint my dreams
With flowing verse I slept
How maidens so fair danced
And birdsong soared upon high
Ode to the beauty
That they gave to me

They are remembered for love
Romanticism bore their pen
And while they sleep
The words are speaking aloud
Into the world and every soul
How I envy the dead poets
How I wish for me their role
To rest and my poetry read
Be known for beautiful love
And hurt no more