A Hamlet For A Slothful Vassal
Behold a jocund morn indeed! -
Sun on high - birds in the sky.
Yonder the whist firth eathing,
Fro where a gale erranteth.
Ye beholdest but the shadow. That is a lie!
Mayhap a tithe of trothplight - Lief I am not!
I deem - e'er and anon! My words are but a twist.
'Tis a feigned lie through loathing,
I say!
To and fro, save hither,
Is thy love.
A dotard gaffer, I daresay...
Not a loth! -
But vying for my kinsmen!
...a sapling not!
Beautiful tyrant!
Fiend angelical!
Dove-feathered raven!
Wolvish-ravening lamb!
A hamlet for a slothful vassal -
Soothing ale for a parched sot.
Hie to tell me
What ye judgest as naught;
I behold the shadow!
Wherefore call me such names;
Nay imp am I!
Thou art my aghast hart! -
Grazing in the glade.
E'er thou sayest aye! That is a lie!
Thief of the plot! Lief I am not!
Now go to thy tryst! My words are but a twist!
Go, leave totter! - Fare well! - with joy I came,
Until ye twindlest. With rue I leave.
A morsel nay more, Even the orb cannot
For thy journey Help me melt the ice?!
Hither and thither!
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