Disillusion dis fusion of lucre and sweetness
Dispelled inclusion of base above the fleeting mess
Lost. Hush, the bush rustles so pleasant
The pheasant not gone but turnt and tossed
Topsy turve, as the ears steer clear of the eyes
In swerve. The image put forth, believe it not,
The learned service is crude to the blinkless
Who think less and earn more slower, in turn
The balance is in bloom. Knowledge, got some?
Blossom, by ear, listen and void mispells,
Pleasure's endeared to the mind irrawed, as
Nails clipped, the saws of the past are claws as
Veils stripped.
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