The Hammock of Reason

The spindle hammock of reason Sways cradle to the sober mind. In the raiment's velvet honeycombs My sanity catches cuddle. Amid willows dangle meadows of wit With backs leaning again the gusts of thought. Spurs of the willow grin shade upon the greens, Tussle the fiery winks of the sun. A galore fleet of intellects stoops In the nebula tawny of dusk I sway a bulged sane To absorb the jingles of the chariots. Eyelids shut, I tune low the knob of palpitations Dilate the ingresses to the soul And let the gale of humour rage in. My castle is pregnant with tintinnabulation. On the igneous splinters of psyche, I tramp May the beating of my ardent tread Spring rhythm to grapple on. Let my boughs of logic sigh with each muffle sway. The spindle hammock of reason Sways pouch to the sober mind I dilate the ingresses to my soul To absorb the jazz of the chariots.