Titans of Powder Ink

O Ye Titans of powder keg Ignatius ink I speak to Thee When flight and night Draw The thaw of bedded grass Under village green sunlight flowers I seek my charge As fond letters Adorned with stamps and frank's Litter my thoughts Provoking verse of stale curse I while each stroke to the i I dot and cross For all is lost More than the last Each parting shot Is such sweet sorrow So i beg of your leave untill tomorrow Goodnight god bless No more no less She takes to the Skies tomorrow She leaves us at a loss But somehow better She is the personification of the letter in a bottle My muse of peace The season's follow I set thou free From my clench released Go forth from me Let me be