Foe no paw tick
yell la rhyme anon,
nor reason the spirit
of English poet
with sir name Donne
silently reverberated,
thru age gent
o' time gone
by, and space from one o'
many departed esteemed
fellows named John,
this particular gifted poet bro'
enshrined within pantheon dough
main of renown
wordsmiths, whar low
did volumes of cherished mo'
verses didst flow
till death, whence glow
extinguished last
breath aye...Kings
unsullied reverence
eminent soul dost overshadow
history didst stow
treasure trove belle lettres - whoa
to majestic scribe,
whose legend preserved
against dry den sorrow
(born: January, 24th 1572
died: March 31st 1631 -
London, England) -
after demise, whence,
grim reaper stole storied
versatile writer yet barely lix,
spittle orbitz, his
corporeal body didst go,
boot mourn not saith
long deceased flair rushed
with quill British bard,
forsooth heave hoe
doth his spirit gently
haunt every know
wing troubadour piercing
released from well taut bow,
a well targeted primed,
and boned arrow
loosed thru ethereal
doggone catacombs as divine
heavenly lambent crow
wing discernible as tow
whirring master as mentor hiho
channeling thru intervening
three plus centuries.
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