''KEATS'S GRAVE''
''(Written when it was proposed to make a high-road over it)''
Dust unto dust ? Ye are the dust of Time,
{{gap}}Immortals, whose mortality is o'er;
{{gap}}Names writ in water once — now evermore
Carved on remembering hearts in gold of rhyme.

What though above your heads the pantomime
{{gap}}Of vulgar traffic clash with daily roar?
{{gap}}'Tis the same load in life your spirits bore,
The world's indifference to souls sublime.

So all mankind moves on with ceaseless tread,
{{gap}}Tho' the far goal yon mystic shadow bars,
{{gap}}Along a road whose dust is heroes' lives.

Sacred no less the soil, than overhead
{{gap}}That highway to whose end no sight arrives,
{{gap}}A riven road ablaze with dust of stars. {{right|
{{sc|G.-A. Greene}}.}} ----
''CHATTERTON IN HOLBORN'' ({{sc|Fragment}}) {{right|''Requiem''}}
Perhaps, who knows, the hurrying throng
{{gap}}Had hopeless signs for him;
I fancy how he wandered long
{{gap}}Until the light grew dim.

The windows saw him come and pass,
{{gap}}And come and go again;
And still the throng swept by—alas!
{{gap}}The barren face of men.

And when the day was gone, the way
{{gap}}Led down to the lethal deeps:
Sweet Life, what requiem to say?
{{gap}}'Tis well, 'tis well, he sleeps.
{{right|{{sc|Ernest Rhys}}.}}