Ah, aka JF suggesting I could pull off "4 or 5 sonnets"--I took that and this was the final in that half hour just before midnight.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXL)
Ya, we sipped tea where whitish tendrils thence Drew up that airy note of yonder, pale And ghostly, likeas spirits in betrayl E'er non in sheer ascent, with toast fr'intents Ne conversation but that hallowed sense Of I don't know what, til my brother'd hail-- Then talk, and back to work upon that scale, While I waltzed through a dream like's not pretense. Now as the furnace growls, the Scriptures fer All that in Revelation, nothing's new. Yet I'm confused. How midnight knocks in tour, The myriad influence of all I knew Half urging me to chase down sleep to cure This madness. But that's not Thy Scripture's cue.
01Apr19d
Thanks to aka JF I have this...and since I DID write in lieu of retiring half sensibly before midnight, I began another, to discover twas AFTER midnight and the next day....