Gone solo are the leaves in mist,
Liquid joys in eyes delight,
Becoming fervent each day
Seeping cheeks in steam,
Somewhat fresh the vision speaks.
Asunder the shades to speak,
Tongues silver and gold fancy
Perilous escape yonder words,
Ride in current, O! The served odyssey!
Mumbling pastures green,
Where sheep their stake lay,
The shepherd hedgehog calls,
Empty quills in feverish lock.
Mine and mine, rivers in decay,
Producing food to foster,
Delivered in lipping fantasy,
The chamber of midnight hatchery.
Confronted are the shadows as whisky slips,
The walls in mastery of legions surmounted,
And tradition holding the heart at bay,
My mistress, she runs about in hurried display.
Give her some wine, feed her some trust,
Then you see a piece virgin of forest,
Falls of water and currents of cream,
Notions of a newborn dream.
Sickle and suckle, beasty talents
As winter in her highest ease
Ships away a mournful song,
Champions a maze in words away.
Enough the scary pangs,
Merciless junctures aptly at tangent,
Adjoining mirrors, as you hope, realities!
Perhaps IVR tawny in pleasures seek,
A rhythmless venture to please
Happiest murders and wars in history
Wished upon a crescent beam
Welcomes home the smoky Queen.