My brother sits on mother’s shelf
In sombre hues of grey
Like flower plucked and soon to fade
But captured for a day

The wringing hands and ceaseless tears
One week stretched out for many years
But jealous fortune would not yield
and Jacob died a month today

My brother was a perfect joy
born on the 4th of May
His face was like an angel’s doll
in almost every way
But now in silver gelatin
His lifeless eyes are glazed
The image captures nothing of
his spirit, bright and gay

But rather seems there is a glint
of predjudice in place
of love and trust that was his way
I fear to look, I fear to stay
Is it only my unsettled mind
in truth I cannot say

I heard the servants muttering
“That picture gives me chills
I’ll no more stay in this ‘ere house
I’m leaving, so I will”

The clock moves not, the shadows creep
Our mother no more cares to speak
But sits in front of brother’s shelf
And mutters madly to herself
Now no-one in this house will sleep
Till Jacob goes away.