Preliminary Instructions for a Funeral Service: Being a Poem in Four Stanzas
Say this poor fool misfeatured all his days,
And could not mend his ways;
And say he trod
Most heavily upon the corns of God.
But also say that in his clabbered brain
There was the essential pain—
The idiot’s vow
To tell his troubled Truth, no matter how.
Unhappy fool, you say, with pitiful air:
Who was he, then, and where?
Ah, you divine
He lives in your heart, as he lives in mine.