Jerrold Prothero Poet Rhyme

There Is a Hyphen Waiting for My End

There is a hyphen waiting for my end,
To close that form engendered by my birth;
That year that shall its long imbalance mend,
And mark the measure of a life on Earth.

One may take pity for that broken bar,
Well-grounded left, but rightward hanging bare;
An absent fact a symmetry doth mar;
But it has patience, time shall make it fair.

O, such a little thing it is to see!
Two numbers with a hyphen are too dull;
But think, before you pass, that there go we,
And once, within that hyphen, dwelt a soul.

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