Hozier or Keats?

We lay here for years or for hours,

Thrown here or found,

To freeze or to thaw

So long we become the flowers

Sweet and right and merciful,

I'm all but washed

In the tide of her breathing

The poetry of earth is never dead,
When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run

        my peace has always depended
On all the ashes in my wake

Heard melodies are sweet,

But those unheard are sweeter

I've no language left to say it
But all I do is quake to her
Breaking if I try convey it
The broken love I make to her

I could be matyred for my religion

Love is my religion - I could die for that

And when the earth is trembling on some new beginning
With the same sweet shock of when Adam first came

If I was born as a blackthorn tree
I'd want to be felled by you
Held by you
Fuel the pyre of your enemies

And this is why I sojourn here,
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing

But whose heart would not take flight?
Betray the moon as acolyte
On first and fierce affirming sight
Of sunlight

Twin roses by the zephyr blown apart

Only to meet again more close, and share

The inward fragrance of each other’s heart.

My head was warm
My skin was soaked
I called your name 'til the fever broke