"my dear marquis,"

the woods are awful, and dark tonight
the surreal symbolist weaving in
drabs of religious orders, the woods,
my dear marquis-

oh to be around you!
when the fervor of nuisance afflicted your
lily face, a budding

frock of powdered white,
the chrysanthemums were brandywine

beneath the frightened horse,
oh assyrian mastiffs leapt at

small town.

dear marquis you
would not, my dear, expect to see me
here about the snow-white horses,
the thin grouse
hugging close the dear ground-

the rivers are wild

everything grows here

my dear marquis if you would see the wheat grow-
it grows quickly-
in france they must have different medals and fine tobacco
as fine as carolinian rice-