A PECULIAR ORATION

From lofty branch to lowly grass
he, crashing yet again
swiftly measures the loss of grace
gives approval for height displaced
with not a broken limb
and hurries then from sneering eyes

Contentment is a climber fallen
nodding through the race an' chase
'til the Last Post at some place
stoned to Yonder on some whim
or, taken out by swifter claws
after scaling Fate's hardy trunks

See, there at the roadside now
a stiff long tail, still small head
Life's agility, the scene declares
beyond the bend is gaping void
a rotting lizard and buzzing flies
and nothing else to nod about.

Two legged folk have hymes and more
But dead they be just the same!

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