When you can't get rid of a poem fragment no matter what you do, you try and finish it. Here's my attempt, not amazingly good but not bad either. A farewell to Boromir, who I think is completely misunderstood by most people.
Now updated with fixed grammar, courtesy of MysticalPoet.
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Gondor's Son
Sleep, dear Boromir of Gondor
For thine eyes art weary
And in eternal dreams
lost to the world
Weep we shall, ere the end
And wish once again for your company
For thou wert lost to us
In a final stand, a man of Gondor to death
The White Tower awaits thy arrival.
Trumpets prepared to sound forth in glory,
Shall be silenced in grief
And await no more
Sleep, dear Boromir of Gondor
For thou eyes art weary
And in eternal dreams
lost to the world