undeaf

O , but they say the tongues of dying men
Enforce attention like deep harmony .
Where words are scarce , they are seldom spent in
vain ,
For they breathe truth that breathe their words in
pain .
He that no more must say is listened more
Than they whom youth and ease have taught to
gloze .
More are men’s ends marked than their lives before .
The setting sun , and music at the close ,
As the last taste of sweets , is sweetest last ,
Writ in remembrance more than things long past .
Though Richard my life’s counsel would not hear ,
My death’s sad tale may yet undeaf his ear .