Listening to every heart
Memorial Verses of Desire
“…When Byron’s eyes were shut in death
we bow’d our head and held our breath
He taught us little; but our soul
Had felt him like the thunder’s roll.”
Mathew Arnold, 1850
And I perhaps in little verse
Would spend my life in full rehearse
To come around, then come again
To leave a sense of where, and when.
Would I so live memorial?
Better still to live before funeral
Flowers would grace my grave
To spend more than that to save,
To spend words of valued trust
And let not this good pen rust;
Perhaps I am not a sage grown white
But by Truth I shall pen some light
For I would take the darkest chill
Thus lend to life a sunbeam’s thrill,
To fill one’s soul with purest beam,
To give one cause to hold a dream.
For I read Arnold’s penned poem,
Prayed to the poets bon homme
As it struck me while night did fall
That I might write, beyond the pall.
©Karilea Rilling Jungel
25 June 2002