PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY.SONNET-137

So,it hardly evaporates its gushing streams from triumphant hills,Indiferent to lurk like the shameful,in that his homage dearly pays and never desecrates,But if by smartness alone, glory dies and warriors bickering beneath hill may not reach ashore in the tumultuos waves,Then harp this clue-Why art so gully quirky a path that history differs?Lords of my pedagogue pays the price and makest the difference,This merit sturdily knit,times can not freight unbound,in wanton words and dire conceit bestows it,over lugubrious earth's potentate crave,Why weary with toil that thou to the bed at night hastened and still undazed? What zealous pilgrimage to ply,yet drooping eyelids persist in a purblind dumb heir of a shadowy ambush?What happy flight and doth him clemency when gauchy cloud do blot the backlash to the back of beyond whereon barndoor hit is thrown?Then i scorn this tardy lull when to the seasons of this tacit moult,gregarious thought if not privy cannot summon,And with old bales,novel bales cummulative.