So was he venerated there in death
By jealous lips that now defied all bounds,
Where by extolling merit bright in breath
Paid homage to their own gilt lofty sounds.
Speaking loudly as if the pledge so read
Bombastically ascribed proud pious praise,
Yet still upon some granite to be set
To crown the hallowed plots of further graves.
They did not care for him in his brief life
Save for his lauded portion of the sun
That so eclipsed their light of murky strife,
Or dulled the music of smug songs they’d sung.
Here still to claim some virtue of the man
Where words of him yet to themselves commend.
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.