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The Fiddler In London's Tower

Fernando, I do sincerely extol thee.
You were as much passionate in symphony
as you were in death, which you faced willfully.
Cursed were the cruel war machines that silenced thee.
But still to celestial heights they lifted thee.
For in great honour at heaven's distant gates,
you became heaven's fiddler at God's request.
To play in courts before the heavenly greats
in a manner timeless at their own behest.
Fernando Buschmann, the fiddler at the tower.
He that rendered sad tunes in his final hour,
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The Fiddler In London's Tower
Thursday, April 25, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: sonnet
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
A historic poem about the execution of the German spy, Fernando Buschman during World war 1
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