O soft embalmer

Woefully, we at Brightly acknowledge having failed to honor the birthday of yet another bard, the lovely, tubercular John Keats, born in London's fog on October 31 in 1795. Though never a devoted fan, this Brightly writer appreciates the night lull of "O soft embalmer of the still midnight / Shutting with careful fingers and benign / Our gloom-pleas'd eyes, embower'd from the light / Enshaded in forgetfulness divine..."

As does the Dickinsonian oracle, who pronounces, in respectful homage to Keats' shade:

Oh Shadow on the Grass -
Art though a Step or not?
Go make thee fair my Candidate
My nominated Heart -
Oh Shadow on the Grass
While I delay to guess
Some other thou wilt consecrate -
Oh Unelected Face -
(E. Dickinson, 1237)