letra de jordan - sir cedric hardwicke
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who says that fictions only and false hair
become a verse? is there in truth no beauty?
is all good structure in a winding stair?
may no lines pass, except they do their duty
not to a true, but painted chair?
is it no verse, except enchanted groves
and sudden arbours shadow co-rs–spun lines?
must purling streams refresh a lover’s loves?
must all be veil’d, while he that reads, divines
catching the sense at two removes?
shepherds are honest people; let them sing;
riddle who list, for me, and pull for prime;
i envy no man’s nightingale or spring;
nor let them punish me with loss of rhyme
who plainly say, my god, my king
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