A Poem of Archin
- - by Archin
I just read a poem written about a fellow during the Victorian period, who reminded me of Archin.
The poem was written of Robert Lowe, by a fellow that didn't like him.
"Here lies poor old Robert Lowe;
Where he's gone to I don't know;
If to the realms of peace and love,
Farewell to happiness above;
If, haply, to some lower level,
We can't congratulate the devil."
I thought I'd just switch some words around and angle it towards my louder half.
It's an epitaph:
"Here lies poor old Archin Brey
His mouth finally has been stayed
If the Light be his resting place
Farewell to peace and quiet space;
But if to darkness, he be left
The Legion, forever, rendered deaf"