I can't rip myself asunder from such a magnanimous prepositional as this. While the fishes hang from my window like little ice-ickles in spring. So foams the frosty beverage that tells the gills to sing. Twilight music and the sonnets contained therein have little left to offer us, save a right-winged jerry-bin. So the muse of ages goes round and around and around for the malarkey of a daffodil creates folds and hills where none exist.