Darkness

A gentleman of wit and charm
A kindly heart, a cleanly mind
One who was quick with hand or purse
To lift the burden of his kind
A brain well balanced and mature
A soul that shrank from all things base
So rode he forth that winter day
Complete in every mortal grace

And then the blunder of a horse
The crash upon the frozen clods
And Death? Ah! no such dignity
But Life, all twisted and at odds!
At odds in body and in soul
Degraded to some brutish state
A being loathsome and malign
Debased, obscene, degenerate

Pathology? The case is clear
The diagnosis is exact
A bone depressed, a haemorrhage
The pressure on a nervous tract
Theology? Ah, there's the rub!
Since brain and soul together fade
Then when the brain is dead enough!
Lord help us, for we need Thine aid!



Credits
Writer(s): Salvador Lluch-cota
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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