As Blood to forever live, thy Sieve, the Flood broods in the Dark
While, entered two by two, Love's mutinies are its Ark
Dove of a Kingship's conclave too fractious to fly
You Caladrius! That you won't meet my eye!
Envoi-
Peace hath a Prince! tho' all Power can but palter
Thought fouls its nest 'neath Death Thy altar.
Reponse-
In what the canny bird-seller carefully hides
Winged hope, yet, worshipfully abides.
Siddhanth
Thy Word casts Jaundice to the canary, Melancholia to the crow
My Invisibility to Her, to which bird will it go?
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