OCR Text |
Show THE SONNET MASTER Because he lived with words that angels sing In sweet refrain, because he wrote them down For worlds to read, to soothe raw hurt and bring A healing touch, we grant him due renown. His poems transcend the agony of loss, Of grief. They are a velvet cloak to drape Against the cold, a talisman across The years, safe passage to sublime escape. Because he made a gift of words, we know He is not gone. He lives on printed page, On singing sounds-a brilliant after-glow, A bright illumination of life's stage. He lies alone in silent sacred earth But every word he penned gives him rebirth. |