Eulegy -

Then we count the hours,
Pressed suits all in black,
Carefully arranged flowers,... See More
All the times you can't get back,

The sadness overtake,
Of the wrong heroin burn,
A gift is what they make,
No receipt and no return,

The master of all but feeling,
To the students holding breath,
WHen guilt asuaged apologies appealing,
Tis another form of death.

There is no life but ours,
and in freedom we choose,
To get us through lonsome hours,
and some the gift refuse.



Jack

My godson who I've not met,
Has a giantkillers name,
And beanstalk climber don't forget,... See More
And therby grows his fame.

My brothers son I hold dear,
as I do all his brood,
I write this for his wife sincere,
always in the best of mood.

May he be nible and quick,
And walk up the hill with Jill.
May he be strong tis no trick,
As is his parents will.

For this man as he stand,
Would do all that he able,
Will do his duty as gods command,
To help him write his fable.