Behold a jocund morn indeed! - Sun on high - birds in sky. Yonder the whist firth eathing, Fro where a gale erranteth. Ye beholdest but the shadow. That is a lie! Mayhap a tithe of trothplight - Lief I am not! I deem - e'er and anon! My words are but a twist. Tis a feigned lie through loathing, I say! To and fro, save hither, Is thy love. A dotard gaffer, I daresay... Not a loth! - But vying for my kinsmen! ...a sapling not! Beautiful tyrant! Fiend angelical! Dove-feathered raven! Wolvish-ravening lamb! A hamlet for a slothful vassal - Soothing ale for a parched sot. Hie to tell me What ye judgest as naught; I behold the shadow! Wherefore call me such names; Nay imp am I! Thou art my aghast hart - Grazing in the glade. E'er thou sayest aye! That is a lie! Thief of a plot! Lief I am not! Now go to thy tryst! My words are but a twist! Go, leave, totter! Fare well! - with joy I came, Until ye dwindlest. With rue I leave A morsel, nay more, Even the orb cannot For thy journey Help me melt the ice?! Hither and thither!
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