A sonnet in Oscar Wilde’s handwriting, titled “The Grave of Keats”, sent to Emma Speed, Keats’ niece. Dated March 21st 1882, which was during Wilde’s yearlong tour of America.

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 dim-grew 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!
Was thy name writ in water? It shall stand:
And tears like mine shall keep thy memory green,
As Isabella did her Basil-tree.
Oscar Wilde