Author Information
She Comes From the Coronation
Talitha my gruel's hot;
mining mushrooms makes me weary of your old bread.
Arn't you silly, old man, the plague take you, all is well now that
the king is in his tower.
A plague, you say, never will I dine with you as a free man,
while that man takes my tongue from afar, and our children's dreams.
Frolic in your age, while the grass is still green,
farther than you can see the world is new today.
I'm a miser of ideals, and you were one of them, Talitha,
and parades of fashion will not stop my misery.
