A poplar prince; committed High Tree’s son;
Unwitting fruit of a low-hanging bough,
Took curtain call (permitted height reason
Unveiled ‘twas last act of tall story now).
Marched against Elder; less sapient sapling,
Near folly’s age, now in foliage wreathed:
Absalom absolute power would have, grappling;
Lopped as a sheaf by a sword that‘s unsheathed.
Fallen in battle; gone out on a limb;
Enticed by glory to gory-garbed end;
Locks locking horns on a dilemma grim:
Little fringe benefit in heir’s wild wend.
O that these tresses were distressed by oldness...
Were he more bald he’d not suffered such boldness!
Talk about vain attempts at the throne... Absalom's billowing mane meant he corpsed in a copse!
(See 2Samuel 14v25-26 &18v9-18, The Bible)