Stand forth,John Keats! On earth thou knew'st me not;
Steadfast through all the storms of passion,thou,
True to thy muse,and virgin1 to thy vow;
Resigned,if name with ashes were forgot,
So thou one arrow in the gold had'st shot!
I never placed my laurel on thy brow,
But on thy name I come to lay it now,
When thy bones wither2 in the earthly plot.
Fame is my name. I dwell among the clouds,
Being immortal,and the wreath I bring
Itself is Immortality3. The sweets
Of earth I know not,more the pains,but wing
In mine own ether,with the crownd crowds
Born of the centuries.-Stand forth,John Keats!
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