Upon a dawning edge of tenth decay
So shone a verticality amiss
Oh shan’t it slant to oceanic cysts
I’m rising since the portrait dare not flay
The Muses pitch the glory, cast away
Of course your dancers wilt against the whist
Well first I’ll wake to blunder, cross my wrist
So shall I conquer wintry, thy dismay?

A gilded screen of purest pillow sheen
I sleep to madness, sleet within the rail
My mental stream just stepped upon the space
I wonder not with what you choose to glean
Whereon the hammer’s might pertains to flail
I fall again to slumber, thus your face