A mission in law
let a Quaker inside this forrest trough's gold
where bold exhale made milk with insight

while our community shone but austerity captured the bones
that this lust was on the beat with fame

and dilatorily wept till obverse set the tone
even a sortie in the rain that kept this stony pillage
with her tide close to home:
still brimming in the wind
and Goan was spattered and stave our fold
though sudden a burst of incredulous
sin made her beckon in the wings.