Book

Then and now of The Book

Once some tides or days
Thou hath plain and youth
With elegant beauty of lepro
And saint lines running
On thy skin.
In best form and great assembly
One standing by the next
And the next, stood another
With thy inner wings
Hooked with piercing metals
Like the ring brings two a one
And a time the fly and perch
If man disflower thy Saint whole
With treasured markings that
Rules the world, or the lights
Of the ancient writers of sketching
Thee must fly for thy elegant hath crossed
And by the dark days or light
Thy strength crawl to fade
There the next if be or not
Shall honour thee or praise.
Let down thy tears for truth I'll say
In the hunt for thee in glass and slim
Thy mate to man imprison thy fame
Then to them a little god and mate
Tell me Who hath thou
Who hath thou who weight their pouch
And hunch their back with a pile
For thy mate hath hunt and won
And thy name may come to gone
If by days no more see thy name
Let this ink of man seal thy fate.

Author's Note

You are green to say something.