Rimbaud was done. Even if he had lived for fifty more years he wouldn't have produced anything more (I'm almost certain), so losing him wasn't a great loss.
Rimbaud's loss was perhaps less heart-wrenching than that of Keats in the sense that he voluntarily abandoned poetry... theoretically in response to the negative criticism leveled at him by other poets and critics as a result of his relationship with Verlaine and the manner in which this was documented in Une Saison en Enfer. But of course what artist gives up because of a bad review?

