On The Death Of John Keats

now the amending angel clears the room
of all the mourners singing out of tune
and peace returns

or its facsimile
the garden open
in the rain cooled air

emblems of Spring are everywhere
but in the elegiac soul a.
bright star disappearing

thank you for the gold you found in Chapman
so much else.
for the nightingale forever trilling

though the young Emperor is dead..
now you never will grow old.

and Beauty's urn crack a little under glass
at the Museum and ghostly, ever ghostly the mists...
Beauty itself in deep seclusion

long after this.

mary angela douglas 22 january 2018