The snails brush silver. Critic crow
points his unpleasant beak, and lances.
Resumes his treetop, darts below
his acid-bright, corrosive glances.
...
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She makes him tea. He sips and calms His Royal Academic temper, While Life and Day outside shout psalms In antiphon... Et nunc et semper.. very good poem. tony
Eisenbart mutters, wakes in rage Because crow’s jarring c-a-a-r-k-s distress him. His mistress grins, refers to age and other matters which oppress him. a great poem. tony
An insight creation with good imagery.