The Dying Is Sometimes Genius
From clearly worried shaky lips
Much surprising confident tips,
Less and less notice of sure death;
Moving her remains to a heath.
The Dying is, sometimes Genius
Digressions,can see,are ruinous...
A few minutes it'll be over
From then, as a fresh ghost,Rover;
She would first on her own roof perch
Next,on far-away Britain's Birch
"Son,peace make with whom you've wounded
But it must be body,not heart
Close friendship with whom you've hounded.
But disfigured not with your cart...
"I've heard you Ghost-In-The Making
Maurice shall his time be Taking".
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