Painting by Severn - Keats listening to the Nightingale
*
Along a luminous track of hope
you traveled by ship to Rome
in search of warmer days and kinder skies
that might bestow the gift of healing
and renewed joy of life on you.
You lived in a very tiny room
with a window to the Spanish steps
and to Bernini's Barcaccia fountain,
meeting point for free-spirited artists
like you, Severn, Shelley and Byron.
Your mind soared beyond the walls
your heart dwelled with your muse,
lovely young Fanny left behind at home.
Maybe just one lady charmed your eyes
when you met her on a promenade.
Pauline Bonaparte! The great Canova
sculpted her for us into immortality.
And who could have blamed you
for allowing her to inspire you too
though just for a brief moment in time?
You knew time was running out
as breathing lost its easy cadence,
but you didn't stop creating romantic
poetic treasures of stunning beauty
meant to impress future generations.
Only a few years of your short life
were dedicated fully to artistic work.
Melancholy took hold of your spirit
as you feared to be destined to oblivion.
But in this assumption you were wrong!
The eternal city dared to claim you
she wanted you to sleep within her arms.
Your name was not written on water,
it still sails on neverending ripples
into your countless admirers' hearts.
Listen! A nightingale still sings for you
in the shade of a caring cypress pine
in Rome's most romantic cemetery
while you continue to shine like a Bright Star
upon the infinite shores of eternity.
*
