Revolvency, shape, earth’s gracely assured
Or blest that dost less the villainy
Oars of jolly pulchritude, aye!
Or aught more that gently discourse?
And proffer of much loving soft?
Much this pelt like trice-ruth most fair
With content that not vilely tempered
Or potent by the sinisterly gait, but
Much to ponder of thy fellow first
To not of thy distaste countly gift
Nor of puff nor unseemly envious
In stead thru truth, most kindly composed
Aye! By my truth nonetheless true
Thence thoughts as tho’ to make insane
That rudely fire like madness undone
With graced gift yet grimly sored
Sored and sored in contorted gyves;
Not of semblance then rudely act
Or Least of care, save fiendish lust
Make back to roots, whenceforth thy peace