'Twas certainly a sight to see,
This gathering to mourn,
As April passed so quietly,
The Poets were forlorn.

You might expect, out of respect,
The travelers would vary,
We stood in reverence to reflect,
At the cemetery.

John Donne decried, with utter pride,
For whom the bell tolls, "Thee!"
We stood there then all teary eyed,
For April's eulogy.

Lamenting such a saddened sight,
Quoth, "Nevermore!" was Poe.
As Thomas raged against the night,
And urged you not to go.

Frost, overcome with grief, spoke brief,
Sobbed, "Nothing gold can stay."
And at the fall of single leaf,
Miss Bronte turned away.

Elizabeth declared, despaired,
To love thee after death.
And, Mr. Browning, they were paired,
Consoled her in one breath.

Shakespeare, shed not one single tear,
In his soliloquy,
Deigned poetry in April here,
"To be, or not to be."

April, gone now it's true, "Adieu."
Ring honorary bell.
Our time together, precious few,
We bid you now, farewell.