The Weasel

The
Weasel
Voice
Of
Ages
And
Of
Centuries
Creaked
Creaked
As
Creaking
Doors
In
Nocturnal
Hastings
Gardens
Below
Stretched the nocturnal sea and deep
And the benighted waters
Spells all round
Played with the friendly goblins and
Dancing nymphs:
A
Toad
Croaked
In
The
Soils
Under
A
Fir
An
Owl
Clucked wise and rarely
On an oaken bough.

by Emmanuel George Cefai

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