Comments about GIDEON BORE
What Gift Fit?
I have no wit, no clue, no thought;
My heart within me beat a tide,
Of indebtedness each time
Your heart is bared and self prod,
Thereof you spill your corn to me.
I feel the much your heart wills,
I see the far you seek to stretch;
Alas, my heart this selfsame virtue;
I seek a price worth it to bid,