ardent tongues and dewy flies,
high teas in the country side,
half in love with easeful death,
there was no room for entaglements,
I was the blunt truth in a patch of myths,
I cease upon midnight with porcelain skin,
and ears in vain,
plates of anthems fade in my mind,
as I search the weary hillside,
passed the ponds and near the swamps,
I did not know but was indeed our spot,
where the fancy did not plead,
and the koi's seeked afternoons peak,
there my bliss is buried.