My coy lord's jibe came.
"Or use the crane" (an alternative gibe).
But I heard nits and tics
And didn't trust the frame.
"Nay! My opal jowl must ripen
Before my wet sword greets the gore.
Thinker's acts performed on trays in the glen
Care little for the mane of men
While sax and oboes qietly say "Hi".