Essay by fathmathshifnaCollege, UndergraduateA+, October 2006

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A man stood with arms up to the heaven

Deep in thought that ask of him a question

Over and over, running through him anew

What precious he hath and none but few

Ponder he, for gold he had not nor silver quick

Fame and fortune to him was but a mist

Small he be, with a build to him but a wish

Fair of skin was not he, even if had he hair at wrist

Style of old with virtues as legends was of his

Still to be found on men of age leaning on sticks

Fun of behavior he was not, sarcastic of a fashion maybe

But naught he could grasp did aid him, lost he was therein

Thence perchance a beam of light fell on his face

Through clouds and fell drops of rain, it cometh forth

Dawning of an understanding scratching his brow

Hence his arm came down as his heart did pace

Thereby hangs a tale, of what he solely realized, as goes

What he had, none save for he, did have nor posses

Those some that did have what he had, had but a breath of it

Thus had not what he truly had had as his own

Appreciate I may have not what this man had realized

And grasped not that what he held dear, be but love for

One diamond in the ruff that be but you, my love

If that man above had not been, none other but I