Of Us -

Don't take that line where it belongs;
It came all well, exhausted songs.
We end the day with poetry crass,
To grace our minds, critique at last.
With pen in hand,
Surveyed the land,
Did little justice to his creation.
With all forgot,
The young head hot,
Go on to write of their salvation.

Of their salvation they wrote too vague,
And so one lad went on, he said,
"Let us write to our lovers fair,
To all be men, the gentle we bear."
At that they laugh'd,
Then smiles half'd,
Then thirded, quartered then grinned no more.
Since they all had thought,
That only they sought,
A fine lady's love to breathe as feign'd before.

By Evan Gunn Wilson

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