Classic Poem

Your dextrous wit will haunt us long
Wounding our grief with yesterday
Your laughter is a broken song;
And death has found you, kind and gay.

We may forget those transient things
That made your charm and our delight:
But loyal love has deathless wings
That rise and triumph out of night.

So, in the days to come, your name
Shall be as music that ascends
When honour turns a heart from shame.
O heart of hearts! . . . O friend of friends!