Emery

Emery had a nose of stone,
An outgrowth of his weighted mind.
Of alabaster was it honed
Into a feature aquiline.

It's 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, then, were victimized
And much of what they valued, too,
Because poor Emery was blind
To that which was not in his view.

The morning of one winter day
He walked a promontory ridge.
Poor Emery saw not the way
But fell. It was the last of him.