January 6, 2024

SONNET 78

Sonnet.78-Within thy ordnance based ordnat'd path,were all squeamish but,blushing and outfacing venture,How much worse,outmaneauvre outdone thy hardihood's silvermoon oddyssey,If thou couldst not thy pistol hold,this silvermoon of a golden morn,shall not pitch thy tent awry and make thy pallor tarry,patching his patchy,by patchwork ignoble patch up,this were to hewn strident when thou still adophobiac outmaneauvre,And see thy nepluultsra far away,when thou feelest it not nigh,unthrifty holiness that grandiose niggard,why dost thou time mince thy golden trough?What bounteous eleemysynery,naturewit dost thee bestow'd,so vilous a pistol held of pendent penorth,yet canst not thee penchant do penance for silvermoon?

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