He lived a very blameless life, Was faithful to his home and wife; In all things he was circumspect— He was, indeed, of the elect. None ever heard him curse or swear, Each step he took he watched with care; To protest wrong, or to rebel He thought was not respectable. No tumults raged his soul within, He knew not suffering nor sin; Though others mourned, he never wept, And when they danced he likely slept. And, then, one day the Doctor said He very properly was dead. A good man he, and free from blame, But none remembered quite his name. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JANGLING MEMORY by KATHERINE MANSFIELD PARASITICS: TO CERTAIN POETS by CONRAD AIKEN THE FIDDLING WOOD by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET HOW TO BE A POET (TO REMIND MYSELF) by WENDELL BERRY VERY EARLY SPRING by KATHERINE MANSFIELD THE ARCHITECT (2) by KAREN SWENSON |