Behold my Praise, Lively-Lady, Behold! This is a Fact I can always ensure For if my Ego pretends to be cold I deserve to be in Prison verily. I'm sorry for such Lame Words, dearest Belle The Artist here has a Duty to Live For if the Master confiscates my Pen How else should my English Rose Concerns give? I knew you only through the Tweets you speak That for me is enough to wear this Faith For within your Vase sprouts a Promised Seed Which flows Sweet Mustard to poison the Wraith. If Questions you ask, that will add to One And in your Friendship let your Will be done.