A school tragedy (A poem within a poem)

 

The first day of the autumn term

We knew that something was amiss.

We saw the solemn-looking staff;

We felt the pain of grief subsist.

 

It seemed that in the holidays

A boy called Whipps had disappeared.

Since almost thirty days had passed,

The worst of outcomes was now feared.

 

He was a shy and quiet boy,

To whom there was still much to teach.

His presence loomed among us all;

His memory was out of reach.

 

‘We must assume he won’t come back,’

The pencil-thin headmaster sighed.

‘It is now certain he has met

With some misfortune and has died.’

 

Then this upright man of learning,

Of habits so austere and terse,

Broke down in tears as he recited

These memorable lines of verse.

 

‘His life was just beginning:

A glittering surprise,

When summer’s idle fortune

Closed up those sparkling eyes.’

 

Sitting back, he wiped his glasses

And who are we, of all, to say

That, despite his desolation,

This would not be his finest day?

 

From 'Bedside Days' (2019)