PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS' DIARY.SONNET I06.

O sweet vision in its sweet candour beyond compare frightfully frigging home my silvermoon,Now look in thy sweet vision and frisk thy tongue twisting laser beam in thy apologia to pay homage to the oracle of time,And to thy hardihood be crowned with a garland of gallantry,of frigging boats berthing ashore its seabank,and in this esteem thou shalt thy hat earnestly doffs,O sweet vision how glorious thou are,how glorious herald in thy stunning vale,ensconce plays whose pile of funereal shadows,canst not its fringe benefits gainsay,the burning fumes at the burning metropolis,may have gone up in smokes,innumerable times beyond reminicence,And the pinnions of the backward violet may have deepened even its hollow track,salvation earth trigger might not be dismayed when sweet vision,with thy forward violets at the pallor streets sings,O sweet vision is not sweet when not mated with gallantry,tis gallantry with the bonquet of flowers be plaqued as triumphant as jubillant as the old sleigh bells,in its roll of honour