Page:The city of dreadful night - and other poems (IA cityofdreadfulni00thomrich).pdf/169

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III.

Keats and Shelley sleep at Rome,

She in well-loved Tuscan earth;
Finding all their death's long home.
Far from their old home of birth.
Italy, you hold in trust
Very sacred English dust.

IV.

Therefore this one prayer I breathe,—

That you yet may worthy prove
Of the heirlooms they bequeath
Who have loved you with such love:
Fairest land while land of slaves
Yields their free souls no fit graves.