To give us naught but bleak display,
To say, to say,
Love has never tethered moon
That heather never blooms but brays
To drop the stars in sage and grays.
And in this flash hewn verdance sent,
Aghast the sea in violet vent,
Abhors the virgin-singed regret,
This skirmish lost though never met.
And where upon a furrowed leaf,
The miner enters as a thief,
To take the blood but not belief,
Was not the time to span a grief?
But given naught but bleak display,
That tethered moon has gone astray,
And pulls not tide but skin away,
To slink beyond a son and pray.