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A poem by Oscar Wilde (王爾德的一首詩，探視John Keats之墓後，寫於羅馬)
The Grave Of Keats
Rid of the world's injustice, and his pain,
He rests at last beneath God's veil of blue:
Taken from life when life and love were new
The youngest of the martyrs here is lain,
Fair as Sebastian, and as early slain.
No cypress shades his grave, no funeral yew,
But gentle violets weeping with the dew
Weave on his bones an ever-blossoming chain.
O proudest heart that broke for misery!
O sweetest lips since those of Mitylene!
O poet-painter of our English Land!
Thy name was writ in water--it shall stand:
And tears like mine will keep thy memory green,
As Isabella did her Basil-tree.
其他 A thing of beauty is a joy forever. [John Keats] 美的事物是永恆的喜悅。
2006-07-26 22:10:15 補充：
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness painsMy sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,Or emptied some dull opiate to the drainsOne minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk 我的心痛，困頓和麻木毒害了感官，猶如飲過毒鴆，又似剛把鴉片吞服，一分鐘的時間，字句在忘川中沉沒
2006-07-26 22:12:48 補充：