Fair beast I knew thy in her robe—a cut up poem
Who wouldn’t leave eyes of flame wandering this globe? As if the simple insinuation that his once free Jabberwock, was lost between boards, silenced him? Avaunt tonight he grasps in his arms my heart born of the requiem! Dost see not the dirge that I’ll upraise softened by the poor shuddering child howled in plays about the sea rolled up with waves? How shall the ritual then be sung with crown and with train? How? by the elk queen trying with the original raw mystery polished and returned as a pretty trinket? He holds the grandfather beside the king of heaven The sweet child hath keep him to a golden throne with hope that grandfather is good