An Ode to an English Poet


Thou whose lips flower in earnest,
Thou who lingers in contemplation sublime,
Spiritual historian whose eternal success,
Transcends the manacles of ephemeral time.
What tragedy graces thy soul’s complex shape,
Romance fractured or prohibited growth?
With reflection, was thy death truly in Italy?
Or home in England, or possibly both?
What were thy dreams that never escaped?
What was thy wish for thy legacy?

What great revelation was thy life’s sacrifice?
What ending were thou planning, how would thou bless?
Thou knew the world better than most, yet thou lies
Silent, in the ground in garlands dressed.
What proverb of being did thou grasp, so sure,
Or what enigma did thou have yet to quell?
Spoken words undying, though those unspoken we mourn,
Chained within thy skeletal breast, evermore.
Thy wisdom silent be, and not a soul to tell
How thy hoped of life lived, and passions unborn.

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter; yet still thine early thoughts speak on;
Not to the sensual ear, but to the soul, unfettered
Though thou sweetly sleeps, preach to the dawn.
Fair youth, in the spring of thy life, thou canst not leave
Thine utterings not often twinged by the death of budding affairs;
The climax of life never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve;
The autumnal life, thou shall forever miss,
For youth shall not wilt with love in midair!

Though life pricked thy skin and thou bled
Thy heart never bid thy love adieu;
And, thy cognizant artist, thy persisted unwearied;
Unrelenting devotion, thine senses unsubdued.
Thou grasped love! Oh undying love!
Forever warm and still pulsing, and abiding joy!
Forever charitable with affection and tongue,
And forever stained by the outcome thereof.
Yet the words on thy lips are never to be cloyed,
By the ache of thy throat and sorrows unsung.

Oh undying love, oh death without heed,
Thy excitement in life still so widely sought.
Preserved while blooming, thy youth never seceded,
And thy own silent form provokes collective new thought.
Ages shall benefit from thou dying in youth;
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thy thoughts shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Forever preserved as thou say'st:
“All truthful is beautiful, all beauty is truth;”
This is what thou knew on earth, and all ye need to know.

Hannah Grove is currently a junior in high school in Colorado, and has been raised outdoors. She loves to swim, kayak, hike, and especially spend time with her friends. At school, she is an Ambassador, which means that she works with families wanting to apply to the school.

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