Classic Poem

For Edward Hugh Sothern

I N that brief instant when the Prince was king,
And in his hand his father's sceptre shone,
The pathos of a devastated throne
Left me dim-eyed and sad and quivering.

No more the vast, Shakespearean pomp of Death
Found me with unbowed head, hushed and elate
With splendid, tearless pleasure o'er a fate
So nobly sinking with a ceasing breath.

The Prince was king; the king was dead; the cries
Were hushed; the guns were fired; the soldiers bore
Hamlet aloft upon their shields; his line
Had ended; and the curtain fell ... One tries
To call me back with laughter ... and I pour
My wine, and laugh — and laugh — and drink my wine.