A JEWEL'S PASSING
So no more shall his traitors hate;
For death's veils have made it late
To slight any soul time has called
To dine and wine in the city of gold.
And his tombstone will eerily stand
Above the grass on the watered land;
Where passers-by might donate a tear
To mourn the passing of a jewel dear.
And wayfaring aliens of kindlier blood
May cast a fleeting eye above the mud,
To read that fading nineteen-thirty-nine;
His twain names inked in italicized line.
Perhaps see therebelow two-zero-zero-nine,
Saddest hour the grape was thieved from the vine;
And maybe briefly stand still and belatedly mourn,
And icily concede all must die that erst was born.
His only friends - the butterflies during the day,
And the crickets who with constant chirping pray;
Shall some keen vigil keep over his placid bones,
Throughout his rest beneath those tireless stones.
Copyright © Hannington Mumo | Year Posted 2021.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem