PREFACE
Ahh whenst the Muses strike thenst doth the poet indite those whispers that doth inst his minde doth sing so let me write inst some trite tropes some may But say of reality which we doth see its furniture But thru our eyes But with meaning fromst our minds be this world be a world of blooms andst stars andst moons ast we doth upon our love to swoon with hair of molten suns andst flesh of lilies fair andst eyes bright beams that out shine the stars Ahh our eyes those windows thru which our minds waylay paint such pictures or perhaps create the world itself of which we But thus ”ourselves” doth make