John Keats

IF thou canst not from some superior sphere
Look down upon this world that gave thee birth
Or from some glad abode of stingless mirth
Bend hitherward thy godbright head to hear
Some rainbow-winged etherial messenger
Tell thee men worship now thy wondrous worth,
If thou art not, having passed away from earth,
If thou whose name all sons of song revere
Art nothing but the shadow of a name,
If through the whole allotted period
Of thy brief life thou were allowed to dwell
In endless bitter ignorance of thy fame,
Then must we yield it that there is no God
Or else that he is crueller than hell.