Roundel (Requiem)

Æternam Requiem dona,
Lord God, and everlasting light,
To him who never had, poor wight,
Platter, or aught thereon to lay !
Hair, eyebrows, beard all fallen away,
Like a peeled turnip was his plight.
Æternam Requiem dona.
Exile compelled him many a day
And death at last his breech did smite,
Though, ' I appeal,' with all his might
The man in good plain speech did say.
Æternam Requiem dona.