And while this corvine Clatter still endured
A lambent Flame, by fragrant Promise lured,
Crept in, as all the Inmates cried amain,
"The Shop's afire and we are Uninsured!"
XCI
Arise, then, Zamperina, Day grows old,
The Shepherd pipes his sundered Flocks to Fold,
Your Garments quail and ripple in the Chill,
Your pagan Nose empurples with the Cold.
XCII
The How is swiftly mingling with the When,
The What describes its Orbit's round, and then
Of Why or Which nor Mite nor Mote delays
To fall in Line and get mixed up again.
XCIII
I must not heed that elemental Whirl
Where Arc on Arc the trainèd Planets swirl -
The Astronomic Marvels have no charm
For him who walks the Gloaming with his Girl.
XCIV
The Keeper of the Sky has hasped his Doors,
Forgetting Zal's accumulative Roars,
And drunk with Night's Elixir, prone he lies
In Warp of dreamless Sleep - and Woof of Snores.