His father's mantle now his robe,
The usher greets with nerves of Job—
Strikes the time-piece on his knee,
Shaking muted vacancy;
An empty stage, a foregone strut—
Reflective, audience is justly put
To task, to guess in diffident sway
The characters, their roles to play:
And there, a jewel in the crowd—
Her silent wave to finger point, loud!
Yet the bell tolls now for thee and me,
Pursing, puffing discordantly—
As widow smiles against the brass,
Her phantom metal looking-glass,
Reflecting monochrome yesteryears;
While youth maypoles around blind fears—
Fluting innocence with violin,
Nose ring, rainbow hair, saucy grin—
Lauding well their progenitor
In black-and-white to technicolor;
Once more he lives in celluloid—
Tragic shadows, yet not devoid
Of magic, mimicking mystery—
Many-a-noted jeux d'esprit!
Flute and piano spar so suite,
Fracturing elaborative conceit—
Vying, urging to a whole,
Bursting, spent, through fumarole!
For man on earth is known through song—
And gesturing palms among the throng
Blow kisses up to world beyond—
Their friend and mentor, unparagoned;
While chorus soon adapts John Donne—
"No man an island" halcyon;
Yet still the bell tolls for thee and me—
Applause, applause for mortality!
Then soft, the jewel's golden glow
Caresses us, adagio—
She stands her silent soliloquy,
Brimful, in netted filigree—
A mourning-glorious affront,
A catch-your-breath indigo shunt—
In heavenly hue, it does appear—
A gloria in excelsis tear.