Alexandrian Sonnet 11 Poem by Alexandrian Ink

The rate at which men now go to the grave
Is in thousands faster than the speed of light
The number of widows which we now have
Is increasing like the dial on its greatest might.
Is it that men no longer posses that Godly piety
That they go sooner than flowers do?
That in every department, institution or society
The number of women insults that of men so.
Or, if one may ask; is there partially in the birth rate
Of having females more and males in rareness?
Or the envious death with his agent (illness) hate
To see young men in the pride of youthfulness?
Whether tis women, or birth and death is partial, I want to know
Or men themselves by their valour briskly meet death's arrow.