And I drank coffee, as a deep evening seed,
though government flowers in arms and revisions.
I dare death, yet you with your bus expenses,
travel expenses and leaders, fear death?
Surprised as a skate’s snow with blue-bleak
embers, ah my chevalier. O wonder
of daylight’s dauphin in the archduke’s
rolling, breeding ecstasy for an end.
I want a long, old sunshiny day tale
of three frosts for the pale sultan who
dreams of fire that nestles in pictures;
a lingering tale from the day’s stream.
Would I care? A house-trained ape sleeps
in his high palace and because of a sound
year, would have been born in his wild attacks.
If no worms then away; it links in monochrome.
Away dread hand! Dare the lamb make of honeysuckle
a sound sleep. Come tyger into the forests,
or a leaf-green mausoleum of close symmetry.
The lane and swinging tyger are juicy!