proper obsequies

though bird as priest might soon officiate
at ceremonials of the dying sea
the heart is not in what is not to be
dark is the hour when things have turned out late
a moment sooner and we'd paid the freight
but none of the observers could agree
on which of all the sufferers could see
the meaning of the order of the state
no more the hope of those without a home
there lie in gardens no ancestral flower
but darlings of the morning are not there
so much to say about those who still roam
still to lament the passing of their hour
who cannot say that any left would dare