A Good Man
"Here lies a man, whose span, and length of days,
Were given over to those that he met.
He did this not that they should be amazed,
But that, in his death, they should not forget.
'Tis said that good is interred with men's bones,
And they, having died, are no more than dust.
Yet the good may live on, in mental zones,
And fond memories held, ere yet they rust.
So this man, fearing death, was thus altered-
His life he created anew from scratch.
He who once from the path of good faltered,
With him good deeds passed into this dark patch."
I would have this, on my tombstone, be writ,
Although I do fear that it would not fit.
Share This Poem