A tale of two secret lovers – (An exercise in meaningful nonsense)
Between the twitching vaulting roves, besides the borrid basking fields,
Where Turply rises in the East, and Patton slides as darkness grows
A couple plays in amber darklight, tubbling closely in the wields,
They hold & hug a buttling while, then fade into the gloaming drows.
Only Silver Stephen sees them, but his whispers wibble tight,
of Gulpin and magnanapad, of peeps and rustlings none quotes he,
The burjays flutter o’er the cumber and secret lovers in the night,
are safe as they emble, under the red sky, in the ruttle, of the tree.