a poem by ROY Douglas KNEALE, UK

Will tears be shed?
Copious perchance? As winter’s rain
Is destined oft to fall, time and again
Upon a mound of sod -
Ne’er e’er by mourners trod -
‘Neath which (to worms deemed bread)
A body rests (no longer lost to pain).
O’er such – e’en only if by God –
Will tears be shed?

Will teardrops fall?
Gently perchance? As springtime’s showers
Are sure to spray, persuading flowers
To lighten erstwhile gloom
With tender dewy bloom
And, in response to Nature’s call,
To garnish bright the daylight hours.
O’er one who lies in final call of doom –
Will teardrops fall?

Will tears damp cheeks?
Slightly perchance? As summer’s moist
Is sued for and in song rejoiced
By feathered creature sweet
Who only – light of feet
On hallowed plot - provision seeks;
With perch a tombstone from which thanks are voiced.
O’er he – e’er then unwarmed by sunray’s beat –
Will tears damp cheeks?

Will tears be shed?
Sparingly perchance? Like autumn’s dawn
E’er faintly paints her hues forlorn
Across the changing clime
Above where vault (In peat or lime?)
Wast dug – ere thereto once a poet’s bier was led.
Methinks, tho many a soul by grief be torn,
Ne’er much for me (if any) anytime
Will tears be shed.

[RDK.Cat.No.C57. Composed 17 years ago.]

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