his snow white beard filled the room
with angel-like consistency,
a sage of everlasting bloom
of ceaseless work 'n industry

indefatigable humour and wit,
a dryness that refreshed 'n bit,
always himself, running from honour,
could never be he'd be a goner

yet now i see a blanket black
set o'er coffin with hearse
can it be, he'll never come back,
within this life of years

but though his mortal frame is gone,
i see and feel his presence,
he's closer now that he's moved on,
a part of Omnipresence.