how my heart wish'd to/thu.mp/
along with those that sat wispily[wispy as the barren trees that thin out toward the unforgiving east; shan't i venture there, rest my weary soul]
beneath dusty lofts of liquid gold
[it shone brighter than the stars above, the gold did, and it blind'd me quite so]and compress'd waves of bitter contempt.
[their lives were good, the lives of the wealthy: *they died young and wild, lungs choking and burning on year-old ale and rum and their lovers laying desolately at their selfish sides. and yet, they hold the right to say they lived, to say they took life by the throat and tugged*.]