Garden in a Gaze

Denser hemlock groves can ne’er
a fancy hold, so scrupulous your
glittering abashment of Hellen’s
cheek. That pot I cannot hold,
so dangled on a trellis were you
surely, to cast hazard at those
lechorous demons you awaken and
ward against. Ethereal gardens
that rise and fall of bloom and
decay that necissate tools I
cannot grow nor own nor sow
seeds of paroles that fruits
of your decanter eyes I could
swallow and feel in me flower.

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