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What deeper meaning there is
In vain fancies be resolute
Lunacy is bliss
And all ill is cute

Of priests and prelates of peter's chair
laugh our present state to scorn
If fools be wise and fair,
We are but nobly born

Eaves-drop from the cloud of hell
Within the windows where they arise
To rape our joy in shell
And lay in watch of enterprise

Ask why i stand so mute
They grow too proud in their fall
And by sanctitude refute
The counsel of wise charm and call

And so it came to pass
To wait upon this heavy funeral,
The man died among the grass
to end his spell in state ethereal

is this your poem?

Yes jo.dazzle,

I think i have seen someone who writes poems better than me