Prayer to the Dead

To ramparts secure,
And priories up high,
Into sweet territory,
Where the humors make station;
Safe bastions harboring
Those who dream well,
The goodly souls
That gently rest
Protected from the wild unfathomables,
Unruly obstacles,
And hideous extractions.
There in fruit-filled groves they go,
In fanciful fulfillment.

We pray for they
Whom we have known,
Now departed this world,
Into death.