burred arcade

nomenclature aside

the various pieces of the orkestra merge inexplicably

the sighs of enraptured ladies pierce the night stage

burley griffin in fog

the summit with pine trees like a tiny lebanon

strolling through the filtered light in the temples out of sight

where wind cannot vanquish the living flame that burns on

morningstar upon the river window flowing with the mists

a boat rows solemnly over unseen waters

on steps over looking the city watching its glimmered frozen lights

unusually warm weather breeding lightheadedness and odd aches

black shapes between trees full of bat chatter

the day seem to go before its allotted time

the expectancy of evening which waits at a door

the moon has burnt brighter they always say

on the other side of the sky

but when you wander there you wander away

trouble is a black dog follow you home

worry is a croaking voice in the pipe of your dream

sorrow sad friend what ruined the feast

thy hollow inside of of eastern fleece least

the measure of lochs the pressure of storm

the blood beats like a beasts

the garrulous men who hang round outside

their insolent faces intrude on my visions

their violent traps indentured lairs

are we never to be released from this virtual servitude

and while away pleasant hours by the side of Alph?