To like this man was of the hardest task
His shunnéd softness held like iron fast.
Suspicion at the sight of amblers looms
Squalid, failing, inner voices he grooms.
For the habit of faeries was the ‘tweens
And selecting sad characters it seems.
Their frenzy rushed to the threshold with joy
As they noticed the wicked, wedgéd boy.
Too many words coursed from this sad being
None for faeries advertently squishing.
As they pokéd and prodded this poor lump
They jimmied then sought their queen in triumph.
Deftly stepped the furtive glancing Fae Queen
Allured her this mound, sobbing, shaking scene.
His tiny eyes for an instant transgressed
Across the queen on his eyeballs impressed.
The disgusting villain she desiréd
With unquenched filth to her arrivéd.
She falls in awe encircling the reproved
’waiting revelation which she accrued.
This fool-man more than an object sought
His old nature displaced by giving court.
Thwarted choices arose a deaf’ning call
Neither acknowledged nor bothered at all.
Blooming in his heart, budding in his hand
The rose-man reveres, worships, barely stands.
The toy arose a good man in conscience
The queen reacts with little pleasance.
Alive with confidence the queen resides
As for other lives, all must meet demise.
Cruel words of others she does mediate
In her own none come to deliberate.
His noble voice prevailed, white on the tongue
Only sweet words, fine words, kind words were sung.
Honest and vigorous the man became
The queen ailed to her chambers and to lame.
Banality of that man, the sad queen
Desired away from the congruent keen.
Well-good the man was, traverse he breadth
Sought by a bee, and by eye-sting his death.
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