Emery

Emery Emery had a nose of stone, An outgrowth of his weighted mind. Of alabaster was it honed Into a feature aquiline. Its heft was such that Emery Would counterbalance with his jaw By upward thrust of chin; thus he Intended to reduce this flaw. But, oh, his lips contorted and His limited perception showed Only a level, skyward span And never anything below. Many men were victimized And many things they valued, too, Because poor Emery was blind To that which was not in his view. The morning of one winter’s day He walked a promontory ridge. Poor Emery saw not the way But fell. It was the last of him.