Corpse candlelit on display,
witness-watchers of the coffin today,
they sat to see the coffin lid stayed as before,
shut off from the living by a door.
The day moved on and watchers play aside,
mourners come in, and fail to bury tears inside.
Black Robots work steady beside
the dead - work is always on their eyes;
for fears of the auction block arise
silently work, overcome their sighs.
Hyms sung, and our saddened blood
calmed, an icy balm to our tearful flood.
They buried him with prayers to Father on high;
"Through all our wounds to us we cry!"
Based on the Poem: Thou Who Createdst Everything
Davie, Donald. The New Oxford Book of Christian Verse. Oxford Oxfordshire: Oxford University Press, 1981.
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