Whence flew the litter whereon he was laid?
Of what heroic stuff was warlock Henry made?
And questions of that sort
Perplexed the bulging cosmos, O in short
Was sandalwood in good supply when he
Flared out of history
& the obituary in The New York Times
Into the world of generosity
Creating the air where are
& can be, only, heroes? Statues & rhymes
Signal his fiery Passage, a mountainous sea,
The occlusion of a star:
Anything afterward, of a high lament,
Let too his giant faults appear, as sent
Together with his virtues down
And let this day be his, throughout the town,
Region & cosmos, lest he freeze our blood
With terrible returns.