[ CC ] The Second Coming of Yeats
He may haft died on a dark, cold day
during the meanest of seasons
but this was not his ending
for poets like Yeats defy time
through dedication to craft
and persistence of rhyme;
a mere coupling of reasons
why he's considered one of the greats
And regarding the written word
the lowliest disciple among us
eagerly awaits his return and many
more mooning, swooning spectacles
the likes of which you've already read
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny!
We discover ourselves immortalized
reflected in the spectacles he wore
as if aviator goggles on his head
currently kept with his ashes in an urn
on Ireland's mantle, never to be spread
upon the North Atlantic shore
or swept under some grubby pub rug;
we proudly keep him on display
despite his breath having been taken away
by Death, that dastardly, heartless thug
who left him dead on a dark, cold day!
And though this may
sound like a bit of a roast
---a toast! A toast is in order, I say!
From his lips to your ears
stanza'd water turned to wine
vintaged way beyond its years
So stop what you are doing
and drink your fill!
Of every precious drop
do not spill!
Don't for a moment tempt the Fates
for the world moving forward
is already a glass half empty
without that hopeless romantic
Irish bastard, Yeats!
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