LIKE burnt-out torches by a sick man's bed
Gaunt cypress-trees stand round the sun-bleached stone;
Here doth the little night-owl make her throne,
And the slight lizard show his jewelled head.
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The grave of Shelley is in the same Cemetery where Keats is buried (Non-Chatolic Cemetery, in Rome)
Excellent! A befitting lyrical portrait of the final resting place of the ashes of the 'restless' volcano that was Shelley. A masterly tribute to an unparalleled master.
Oscar Wilde was a poet - par excellence. His tribute here to Shelley is a measure only a masterly poet can bestow upon another.