XXI. The Sons of Songs, Sing They On

Robert Service, my loyal friend, stay by my bed until the end, for you are my loyal friend.

Siegfried Sassoon, my broken brother, you I hold above the others, for your bayonet leaves none uncovered.

Mr. Longfellow, my fond father, what have I to offer? For you are my fondest father.

Sons of songs, sing you on, for you now I sing this song.

Walt Whitman, my wildest rebel, you in I shall always revel, for you are my wildest rebel.

Sons of the Bible, my sinful brothers, you are men just as the others, for you came from sinful fathers.

Edgar Allen Poe, my somber friend, in you as I child I begin, for you have always been my somber friend.

Sons of Songs, sing you on, for your songs they speed me on.

Tennyson, my valiant one, white rook I am thy black son, and I look back to the valiant one.

Robinson Jeffers, my cynical mason, for you this tower is emblazoned, for at 27, we became cynical masons.

John Donne, my saintly sinner, ink is thin, yet blood be thinner, and you are my saintly sinner.

Sons of Song, sing you on, I hear your songs though you are gone.

Kevin Morgan, song son brother, how we have watched over one another, and I will sing your song forever.

Young Sons of Song, my little brothers, keep you always one another, for there is none so dear as banded brother.

Jacob Mannan, my bloodink brother, we in the trenches ‘ave eachother, and to our grave we go as bloodsung brothers.

Sons of Song, sing you on, for your songs I lean upon.

And the Sons of Songs, sing they on, on and on and ever on, and to these songs I shoulder on.