To Plara's sonnets spoilt by toying with,
"As knops that stud some almug to the pith
Prickèd for gum, wry thence, and crinklèd worse
Than pursèd eyelids of a river-horse
Sunning himself o' the slime when whirrs the breeze"—
Gad-fly, that is. He might compete with these!
But—but—
"Observe a pompion-twine afloat;
Pluck me one cup from off the castle-moat!
Which the best judges account for.