Here rests beneath this hospitable spot
A youth to flats and flatties not unknown.
The Plymouth Brethren gave it to him hot;
Trinity, Cambridge, claimed him for her own.
At chess a minor master, Hoylake set
His handicap a 2. Love drove him crazy;
Thrre thousand women used to call him “pet”;
In other gardens daffodil or daisy?
He climbed a lot of mountains in his time.
He stalked the tiger, bear and elephant.
he wrote a stack of poems, some sublime
Some not. Plays, essays, pictures, tales -my aunt!
He had the gift of laughing at himself.
Most affably he talked and walked with God.
And now the silly bastard’s on the shelf,
We’ve buried him beneath another sod.
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Comments about this poem (Elegy by Aleister Crowley )
- My nature is to write, gajanan mishra
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- She does, hasmukh amathalal
- Multi-dimensional; heavens?, Mark Heathcote
- Watch, ramesh rai
- You Know I Do, Michael McParland
- Drowning, Neela Nath
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