Seraph Looking Stern

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I love you from cucking-stool to shining deva,
as the trade winds blow, I love you
from Tibetan low to Siberian high,
as an afrit of Africa in disguise;

I love you as my seraph looking stern
guiding our ship past Charybdis' vorticity,
I love you as my mealy-mouthed martinet,
abandoning our wreck to the sea;

I love you as a penny lauded fellaheen,
with cup-to-saucer perseity, with a pica
for pumice on the tongue, with passionals overflowing,
with swollen heart bulging, carrying our load;

I loved you as an azzardly child, still babies-in-the-eyes
with your badge of povery on the shoulder,
as my darling of a red-letter 'A' demirep,
with a temerariously guided word and slipshod speech.

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6 Followers
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