O Lord, a life has slipped from me too soon!
The wound is near and new and red and raw.
In hours to come, in tears from night to noon,
The realness of the loss will grow to gnaw.
When no one listened I shared tears with him!
When no one held me holding him I cried!
Somehow, I never felt, so soon, a hymn
Would have to be composed because he’d died.
So who can tell just who we love the most,
Or who in troubled hours can make us strong:
Sometimes the one who strengthens us the most
Is neither human nor alive for long.
Here Victor lies: life was too soon withdrawn
From my fool Tabby: thus the dear cat’s gone.
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