Spirit of Rain in The Glade, Sad Day
plucked at with cutting glances plays
The Lamentation Serenade to Plant-Life
on the stops as plot-synopsis:
     Glowing with your own original and
ringing golden sense of goodness and
of innocence, you sing out volunteering:
     I will take The Blame, even as far
as Absence and with Luck come back
like from an errand to the shops.
     So tipped you dropped into the pit like
bucket-slops. Your glow is quickly lost.
     The little sibylls whisper,
flutteringly silver, Shall we bring The Listener
to The Songthrush now, or not?
     Lips parting at the fountain crown emit
...