O gentle bard, whose soul in rapture dwelt,
Where beauty bloomed and sorrow softly knelt,
Thy quill did dance as Phoebus kissed the page,
And time stood still beneath thy lyric sage.
Like Philomela, thy voice did sweetly soar,
Through vale and glade, where muses wept of yore;
A fragrant breath of Eden’s golden hue,
Where dreams took wing in odes of honeyed dew.
Thou saw'st in marbled forms the breath of life,
In urns that whispered love's eternal strife;
Thine eye did trace the transient rose’s bloom,
And mark how youth must wither into tomb.
O fair Enchanter! Melancholy's friend,
Didst thou not know thy gift would never end?
Though Fate did pluck thee ere thy prime was past,
Thy words, immortal, through the ages last.
Still dost thou sing, where Lethe’s waters shine,
Where marble gods bend low to hymns divine,
O Keats! Thy name in starry script shall glow,
As long as beauty breathes on earth below.

- A POEM ON JOHN KEATS WRITTEN IN THE POETRY STYLE OF THE RENAISSANCE PERIOD- THE TIME HE LIVED.

-BY AISHWARYA JATHISH M.