‘Twas not an argyle sock I wrote
Nor smithereen or thunder-boat
‘Twas taste of spring or something else
Please, boy, listen to my help.
It’s finding out that you will sing
In inner cell or outer ring
But not to cut the point too thin
I think that I am caving in.
As though to find an orange trout
I shout and scream and turn about
To find a father in the spring
Running through a diamond ring
But what is that? Who is he?
Please do move, so I can see.