Blather on and on unending
Met with fate, no kind befriending
Slipped on feet of woe becasting
Blather, blather everlasting
Will these shoon clad other feet?
To ramble on, worn but replete?
Or will these lac-ed shoon unravel
There upon the dusty gravel
Where the pilgrim knelt to pray
As he paused along his way?
And there upon a hill at dawn
Stands a cow...or no! A swan!
I know 'twas there, I saw its heft,
But now it's not. It must have left.