We no longer mourn dusks of prior times and the sacred ointments,
By which they were blessed with sweet seasoned showers on plumpy but baren fields,
But the plump historicity of checkered antecedence,that barely storied behind heaven's door may be closed,
And for a doting heart sweet love desire,
And those little souls of mischief with those cardsharps who thought thee saline,
The interrogation of impatience by sibling, pulverizes chivalry for the purpose of time.
And for every verdict passed ,where the liegemen were freed
Squirearchy and fifth columnists pothered at abesi's shore
Sent them as fugitives on exile and much safer ,
Now as two abesians took over portfolio of power in alien soils,
Let patience pass the verdicts by the motion of thine eyes
And not by the emotions of thy adọ freaking in Kelvin zero,
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