The flowing mane of pain swells on Trelawny Lawn
Stark handsome eyes decide the unicorn
Is a beast of borrowed wisdom
Like a thrush in the yielding harvest field
The prophet deems snow.

The silent stork of sadness scans Trelawny Lawn
The lion, the unicorn it's horn in the lap of Beth
Laments the dawn
Beguiled, the scribish jackel-man his cap a skull-of-rat
Is but a pawn.

O sky, your eyes embrace is to vicious for my wheat.