The grave of Keats - OscarWilde

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 gentle 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!
Thy name was writ in water--it shall stand:
And tears like mine will keep thy memory green,
As Isabella did her Basil tree
ROME

Comments: The part caught my attention is marked with <--
The phrase ever-blossoming chain is simply superb.