AN UNPLAYED SONNET
Marvel at your motion, I endlessly stalk.
I should carve your path to follow you forever for blocks.
City smogs, like sing songs
With your yet fallen mocks
(To tour my lusty wrong)
Of my idle admiration to your undying, virtuous stock:
Gallantly timeless by these clocks.
So march on, on your own solidarity of restlessness.
I should charm your so-adequate shyness,
While to you I muse my own amuse to serenade.