To Die a Child
for John Keats
To die a child would be a martyr's death,
Burning out in youthful blaze,
Free of love, life and shortening breath
And fading out in decaying haze.
To escape the body would be a handsome feat,
Before it turns, churns and rots with age,
Per chance to wallow among some elite
Figure whose soul lies steadfast in a teeming page.
And as my darkest hour draws near,
Molesting innocence and drowning joy,
My heart cries out to once more hear
The notes of Philomel and beautiful boy;
A world from whence I'll soon be torn,
Love, life, short breath... Forlorn.
25 October 2008
