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".