Came, by the sundown mist of Lion’s skies,
Or the rare instance of walking Butterflies.
There, Quails envelop about the candle sun.
Then I, when gone in quest for that new sort
Of divinity, in that eager mish-mashed flowers.
Too tumultuous to breathe and as lovely as love.

As I, a known Nightingale, took an early bread
Before your visitors, bowing us all a good sense
Of loveliness and thankfulness. And goodness!
Ah…I’ve rehearsed this nod as a crumb climb
Down my blesséd cheeks, that stretched a time
Too tumultuous to wait and as lovely as love.

But I was a plain polished fly when we hugged,
Pollinating your Bluebells’ memory beyond
My thirty days: That hand-made forage noons
And forest sleeps—Our pale climeless monsoons
Squandered into peace, into abstract calamities
Too tumultuous to storm and as lovely as love.

But the piano man’s finger hops a tenfold dance.
As your Swan brilliant eyes, and countenance
Trail insipid pews; while they pray all the same,
For a pelisse that ever mirror a hundred beliefs.  
But what is the verb of a stone? is it my name?
Divided in blame between a drip and my flame.

So Archangels fell! Along by the aerial deeps.
That heaven-paste on your skin from within,
So God and men’s awe can meet; that opulent
Pinch bled joy, that melt’d laughter’s a plangent
Flavor to a boy’s spinning ears, that…Sigh—
Of broken dreams, drowning his verdant arms.  

Hear me, O, but hear me! Maiden Everlovely:
I sing for every syllable of steps your legs carry.
So do not walk, for all’s contour frame goodnight.
Yet what a sight! What melody bless him and me:
In a fashion I did know, so gentlemen-like,
Too tumultuous to slip and as lovely as love.

A wedding’s an Au Revoir for a sure ‘Yes, I do.’
The veil’s an open locket for life’s container.
But demand me: in mid-fly and mid-journey,
To cheer for a cheer, to you! To that new divinity.
And, my, a strong throw! Aren't you such a Dove?
Too tumultuous to spread and as lovely as love.