You Are Here: Home» Modern Poem , Poems , Timothy Murphy » Timothy Murphy: The Dead Poet

At last the path runs straight
from his hovel to the skies
and the bolted postern gate
of the Western Paradise
where seven times seven
Immortals judge a throng,
admitting some to heaven
for the pittance of a song.


From Very Far North, The Waywiser
Press, London, England, © 2002.
Reprinted by permission of the author.