¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯
alas,
my dearest
Xanthippe,
I do so pine
for thee—

arrestless
tender touch
what's left
mine eyes
b'labored,
beauty!

gen'rous hums
the crest
aroun'neath
ambrous
skye's
seduction,

'pon thy leather,
set me down,
coerced aback
by thine
induction..