Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after,
And the poetry he invented was easy to understand;
He knew human folly like the back of his hand,
And was greatly interested in armies and fleets;
When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter,
And when he cried the little children died in the streets.
Epitaph On A Tyrant
W. H. Auden
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Poem topics: children, laughter, poetry, human, perfection, understand, easy, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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