Chatterton the fabulous creator of other poets’ dreams
An angel of delusion in his world of written confusion
Summer days and lyrically sweet-sounding skylarks
The sunrise and the moonlight of his fading horizon
Writing by the second hand in a hour glass of sand
Amidst the red red roses and the golden daffodils
Quilling songs of hemlock and fading with the flowers
Wearing shoes of silver buckles in John Keats's soles
In his final moments he perished beautifully like a poet.