MajusculeWe'd prevented a ghost from explaining.
Lullabies, tender. Hoodwinks, loverly.
Whiling hours yet to take names
whose functionaries pray sister
and ornate tracts
Some time ago, some time ago.
April mornings arched
Beethovenly on the pigeon-
sill, libraries spilt lawn arcana.
We learnéd clamberers
of the globe still felt sleepy,
Carthage still burned, obliquely, one evening
per annum, recessed vaults stilled continuo.
We were housecarls and we owned
means by which the Scholar's
pure heart may divine egress.
Just (Ghost fed smut to a candle) because!
Why, what's more material
than the shredded dogvane
whipped to quietude,
feral tugging rears
for the deadwife?
Nevertheless there's sound!
The dear, net-laden Moon.
We had leave. We took it.