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  • By Shouvik N. Hore

On the Epitaph of John Keats

Thomas Moran, Opus 24 Rome, from the Campagna, Sunset, 1867

Here lies One whose name was writ in water- O Delphic streams washing aged tombs by! A single glance spare when violets cry Near one fading brick- O cruel daughter Of pearl eyed Mnemosyne unmoist and clear, Run through thy hands on my consumpted waste, Bless thus my youth whose visions were chaste, But half-achieved lay my ambitions dear. O sweet stern Apollo, seer of Bards! Were possessed in me and ye too, Ronsard Would with glad hearts in my grave deep breathe, For though my life would be shattered like cards, I have a world within frail worlds wreathed.

Shouvik N. Hore is an M.Phil. scholar at the University of Hyderabad, India. He has published two books of poetry: The Horizon of Thoughts and Poet's Choice 2. He has been published in magazines in India, UK and the US, including PoetCrit, Panorama Literaria, The Penwood Review and Temptations, an anthology.

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