Pout, with ought's body...
I host a calling wind
Simple service, a reaching for lauding
A haps, to look beyond kind

Does a shadow agree?
Dark somberness, satisfied
Only by sincerity
When strength showed a callous side...

To a world's wishes
Made to guide truth, like angels
With prettier advances, than life mentioned
More than else, a savior of spite, which fell...

Fell for a pouting love...
Perhaps the eye of tradition
Has the moment, we all long for; sovereign
History mutual, a living sulk to intimation

Somehow and always, prowess
Tenacious, worth a delight triumphant
Pride in its arrayed colors, surreal duress
To keep an attracted eye, with love's haunt