Classic Poem

This commanding
young head
which outshines
its antecedents,
magnificent
and mortal
compound on a tower,
burns
with the cautery
of affection.

Therefore, flash
and magnify
the canons of perfection
in an ankle,
in the waistline,
in the private
morals of this lady.

Hold before our eyes,
with wits divided,
an abstract of every
man's spring.

Hold an atomweight of hawthorn.
Do not blow
it off the point of concept,
for the masterweights of spring
equipoise like jewels.