The White Bees

Author: Henry Van Dyke


The melancholy gift Aurora gained
From Jove, that her sad lover should not
The face of death, no goddess asked for thee,
My Keats! But when the crimson blood-drop
Thy pillow, thou didst read the fate ordained,—
Brief life, wild love, a flight of poesy!
And then,—a shadow fell on Italy:
Thy star went down before its brightness waned.

Yet thou hast won the gift Tithonus missed:
Never to feel the pain of growing old,
Nor lose the blissful sight of beauty’s truth,
But with the ardent lips that music kissed
To breathe thy song, and, ere thy heart grew
Become the Poet of Immortal Youth.


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Chicago: Henry Van Dyke, "Keats," The White Bees, ed. Keil, Heinrich, 1822-1894 and trans. Seaton, R. C. in The White Bees (New York: George E. Wood, 1850), Original Sources, accessed May 31, 2023,

MLA: Dyke, Henry Van. "Keats." The White Bees, edited by Keil, Heinrich, 1822-1894, and translated by Seaton, R. C., in The White Bees, New York, George E. Wood, 1850, Original Sources. 31 May. 2023.

Harvard: Dyke, HV, 'Keats' in The White Bees, ed. and trans. . cited in 1850, The White Bees, George E. Wood, New York. Original Sources, retrieved 31 May 2023, from