And
Won't the doorman
Cease to see?
- The one is busy, counts to call!
And
Won't the dormant
Cease to be?
- The sun is dizzy, wants to fall!
And
Won't adornments
Cede to me?
- The pun is easy, mounts to bawl!
End.
- Wont the poor men...
Need do we?
The fun is fizzy, Hunts too small!

All clean toned papers, wouldn't yellow
In November.
Tall reams one tapers, a young fellow
I remember.

I remember
A ****** escritoire that i bought
In November,
To burgeon the memoirs that i sought.

That gelid night, old day that thus shone,
I remember.
That sullied sight, no way as once shown,
In November...

In November
I got better, onto the winter,
I remember,
I got better, onto the winter.

Like the short-lived sunrise
My window refuses to show balloon,
I pass jarring time that pours
Looking at pictures in accompanied laughter...

Like a candytuft dies
My soul flourished a dancer in tune
To a touching sound that tours
Around an imaged and gaily passed chapter...

As dressed in paltry kinds of satin
Maya ambles through the corridors,
Carressed in faulty rinds of pattern
By her handled wooden shutter doors:

She chants with song along the matins
From my shruberry here... as afore,
Enchants the throng among and battens
On my shuddery cheer, evermore!