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Hankâs graceful countenance vanished
With the last breath of September
In the year of his birth
Robbed of the lifeâs bright goodness
Under the Lordâs envious power
Once upon a time
The fallow world bore vast warmth
When he wrested free from the womb
Showing the true loving-kindness
But too early robbed of his poor mother
Illness only was his mindâs reward
With the betrayedâs floods of tears and
Through the slough of deepest lifelessness
Two faithful followers took his tiny coffin
To the chosen place of holiest peace
While the weeping rain was hammering down
Those faithful followers who had covered
His ill body with tears of love before
Buried him on the last day of September
Resting in the bosom of the lamenting earth
Nestled under warming rosesâ strength