SHALL I NOT COMPARE THEE TO A LOUNGE LIZARD ? Part three

Shall I compare thee to a winter's night? Shall I compare thee to the forest at autumn nor thee spring's forest at summer's night befriended?Thou art more sanguine and more despondent,rudderless banks threaten bone marrow sore and forest's deciduous trees,hath all but gone into limbo,at winter's night.Sometimes too vile a mountain to climb,in the muddy eyes of stormy frost,that mottled prime orgy.And invariably gaunts the nebulous feet,grown cold and unfair moist hands,poltrooned carapace bound by providence untrimmed,over its wanderlust barren trudge.That by its string its shrinking forest,shall not cease nor assuage this coccoon,which carteblanched overruled its wit,nor shall its dearth of wanton gazelles assuaged wanderer upon its nuances.So long as the sun breathes upon the earth and season rejuvenates its ado of voluptuous bank,so long as the moon by night and the sun by day,to groove recurrent binges not famished,at its boggy swamp