Classic Poem

She had four dark and fetid teeth,
Her hair was white and fine,
Her back had borne its weight, as well
As either yours or mine.

But now she drifts a derelict,
With none to mourn or sigh;
Though she was once as well beloved
As either you or I.

Her mind a maze, her throat a thirst,
What would she not defy?
Yet she was quite as comely once
As either you or l.

And though she drifts a derelict,
Who knows the reason why?
She'll drift back to the Father's port,
As so shall you or I.

“Sit not down in the highest place,”
For when this life slips by,
She may be dearer to HiSheart,
Than either you or I.