Epitaph on a Tyrant

　　by W. H. Auden

　　Perfection， of a kind， was what he was after，

　　And the poetry he invented was easy to understand;

　　He knew human folly like the back of his hand，

　　And was greatly interested in armies and fleets;

　　When he laughed， respectable senators burst with laughter，

　　And when he cried the little children died in the streets.