Dead Poets Honor

No one would have dreamed

 of doubting your fire

The flame to make us laugh

And to feel, think and weep

You gave Neil the courage to be Puck

You gave Will the courage to be real

And you gave Reeves the courage to smile

When Lorne had his birthday

You poked fun at Busey

And all kneeled

In praise of the Fisher King

But it proved too much

Being on all the time

To those who scoffed

Because of your money and fame

I plead, please think

Of the tears of the clown

And the insomnia which plagued your every breath

It got you, in the end

The pain of our days

And yet, for many

Certainly me

Your death brought out

An awakening to the sadness that the depressed

Wear like a cloak of eternal midnight

For that, at least,

You will always have

The Dead Poets Honor.

 

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