All The Young, Dead Poets Poem by John Bliven Morin

I am thinking tonight
Of all those young poets,
Who showed so much promise
But died much too soon.

You know who they are;
Their names appear clearly
In every collection
Of verses we sing.

A few died of illness,
But most from their dragons:
The syringe, the bottle,
A mind gone awry.

Few battle a dragon
And live to tell of it,
For youth will betray
The bravest of hearts.

God save these brave souls
Who have battled with dragons;
Who died, and yet left us
Their treasure of words.

Let us give them a cheer
That will rise up to heaven,
A cheer that will sound
In the far depths of hell.

Hurrah! for those souls
Whose words are immortal;
Hurrah! the young poets
Who left us too soon.


(2004)