There's something to be said
For clear waxed legs
That sweep off your mind
To Rebecca or Venus of marbles in shape
That glitter with the whiteness of milk.
Lapped with the full-flavoured
Sweetness in thought
Buds now are islands of dream.
Thrust within vortex of splinters and mud
These now are aides to a supplicating mind
That rush me to my hermitage of night.