Martin the Adonais
Percy Bysshe Shelley
I weep for Martin - he is dead!
Oh, weep for Martin! though our tears
Thaw not the frost which binds so dear a head!
And you, sad hour, selected from all years
To mourn our loss, rouse thy obscure compeers,
And teach them of our own sorrow, say: with me
Died Martin, till the future dares
Forget the past, his fate and fame shall be
An echo and a light into eternity!