Tears of Dying Men

In tears of dying men a story: Mostly of fears for unsafe children; Clear witnessing of denied glory: Son’s fragile fingers in hot cauldron If that is scenic, also gory “Please God, my child by Brook Kidron.” Very bitter a ripe farewell, Their offspring’s they see drown in well Their closing eyes sure things won’t be well “Even for the one named Honeywell I’d said to his bank account swell.” No ghost has man saved from sent cell: Can he that bring about with Snell? With death man no more an albatross, The weakest carrier of other’s cross; Death is what it’d been: a tragic loss: Problems that take over a great gross!