Truth is a wand and my verse is able

to perform as my  faithful attendant

moving among luxurious salons

exotically perfumed and richly lit,

trembling for my love or in the courtship

of an illustrious princess as snow

drops and winter balls sort the young ladies.

The most regal of swords my verse sampled

dressed in purple cloth and a beige top hat

wearing a high-fashion shoe, sipped warm wine

and known of loves; yet my wild verses

desire the silent power of true love

and the denseness of the prolific forest.

What tastes of canary!  What of eagle!