One so Young as to inspire Relief
Yet in my Terms he sought to disobey
Which, after all, Authority as brief
Drag those Arid Racers spit for the day
The Ocean warms. One the Spoon cannot stir
Since your Recipe in Past News remit
Harboured by Fortiments made such Themes blur
And braised Emotion to your Benefit
Now the Angel speaks. And speaks on the Rough
Submitting her summed Haloes for your Shield
That, deserving, made Plastic on your Rough
And caused the Tabloids to Honour your Field.
Coward! Take the Rod and hamper my Back
For Manhood you own; And Conscience you lack.