Classic Poem

Cold, bubbling beauty of white, wintry waters pours down, pours over my holy, July mood. Peasants at harvest sing preparedness for the winter. The inkwell on my table glows with sun-blue desires for singing. The summery silken curtains on the rods sing to end the last summerwinds over the basket of hyacinths at my feet.
Cold, bubbling beauty of white, wintry waters pours down, pours over my hot July mood. How beautifully the frost has blossomed and glittered into summer; blossomed like a white-haired pious aged man on a green clipped field, with a lost midsummer dream, humming frail July scales.
Cold, bubbling beauty of white, wintry waters pours down, pours down, flows over my hot July mood.