Get Off Stage An opera’s final act often presents A tenor who, having received a blow Forceful enough to leave a tank with dents Keeps yodelling as he goes down below, Embarrassing himself because his song, Diffusing splendour through the budding air, Is beauty which makes pain and death seem wrong, As if he’s got another life to spare. Maybe he’s singing to Elysium, The song his entry to the angels’ home. But what’s left for the man who’s almost dumb Knowing that these few words might end his tome? Only the knowledge that it’s time to go, To get…