It was the morn And palms were waved And the brass was played Then the coroner came In his limpid shoes. The palms were played For the beau of illusions. The termagent fans Of his orange days Fell, famous and flat, And folded him round, Folded and fell And the brass grew cold And the coroner's hand Dismissed the band. It was the coroner Poured this elixir Into the ground, And a shabby man, An eye too sleek, And a biscuit cheek. And the coroner bent Over the palms. The elysium lay In a parlor of day. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FIGHTING RACE [FEBRUARY 16, 1898] by JOSEPH IGNATIUS CONSTANTINE CLARKE THE BEGGAR'S OPERA: SONG. AIR 16: OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY by JOHN GAY UNTO US A CHILD IS BORN by AGNES H. BEGBIE THE THRESHER TO THE WINDS by JOACHIM DU BELLAY A HOUSE IN FESTUBERT by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN A FOREIGN TONGUE by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH A ROUND by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |