A Sonnet on the death of a fellow poet at Baker Street Underground Station

A Poem from the Babylonian Sibyl

“I almost threw myself in front of the Chesham Service on platform two.” 
- One of the editors of The Sibyl.

They say he did not jump before the train,
But stepped with a metrical precision,  
Mumbling, marking every foot division,
On his crumpled ticket to Rayners Lane. 

Others, staring, wondered what worldly pain, 
Had driven such an unworldly vision 
Of tweed and spotted ties to this decision:
“Had he ever been altogether sane?”

Perhaps it was the fear he would never write 
An original verse or simile,
A single half-line worthy of the sight 

Of those he loved - yet they could never see 
What he saw then: a brook star-flecked in light,
And shepherd pipers playing melodies.