Knowing him nothing did I know. He kept his anger hid beneath his skin Desire and prejudice rarely did show; Even his love was closeted within.
The thrill of life ran pulsing through his veins He could not drink enough of earthly gifts, Yet little of the man I knew remains But memories that come in waves or drifts.
I fiercely loved him when I was a child And loved him more as year on year sped by. Although my days rebellious, vain and wild Must have stung his soul, I rarely saw him cry,
Not at my mother's death did a tear flow Or as the family perished one by one, But when my sister died it hurt him so He collapsed before the liturgy was done.
After my mother died he lived alone. A grizzled face and an ecstatic smile In a photograph is all of him I own And the joy he shared that made all life worthwhile.
Poems Undated (1727)
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Narad
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