Classic Poem

The day has arrived when the marvellous earth
Beneath Santa Chiara has leave to exhibit
The dead it preserves in the stature and girth
They displayed when alive, which most earths prohibit.

Since even such dead cannot stand, they are held
By a rope round the waist concealed by their dress.
To be sure they loll oddly, as though they rebelled
At this forced resurrection in its full loathliness.

But the populace, come by the dozens to see
Its neighbours and friends, comments in high glee:
" Look at Niccolo Baldi, how rakish he looks.

That's because Margherita hangs her head right beside him.
She is teasing him still, though they're nothing but spooks. "
" She's a fright now, at least. I could never abide him. "

" Nor he you, I believe. " They titter and leer.
Too bad such a show comes but one day a year.