A tenant is he the would-be bee Too husband a flower. That wishes not, her ambles free In fear of the seed-plougher! O her rose of purest white Now crimsons the purple night
There are eyes within eyes But blink; and these words are gone! Open—your eyes And then; see the world is anon... All is but one grain... One ear of rice “What more need—you or I’
Straight-out of the delivery box Unharmed by the surgeon’s knife His newly delivered laptop coos. It laughs whist it gripes & grasps At his forefinger! “Now” already
