We expected the violin's finger on the upturned nerve; <br />Its importunate cry, too laxly curved: <br />And you drew us an oboe-outline, clean and acute; <br />Unadorned statement, accurately carved. <br /> <br />We expected the screen, the background for reverie <br />Which cloudforms usefully weave: <br />And you built the immaculate, adamant, blue-green steel <br />Arch of a balanced wave. <br /> <br />We expected a pool with flowers to diffuse and break <br />The child-round face of the mirrored moon: <br />And you blazed a rock-path, begun near the sun, to be finished <br />By the trained and intrepid feet of men. <br /> <br /> <br />Submitted by Stephen Fryer<br /><br />Arthur Seymour John Tessimond<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/epitaph-on-a-disturber-of-his-times/
