I am filled with the remorse of my past
Like the sewage waters of the bogs
Drained of the nectar my flower-bud once held
Or twice, my dreams always a haze
For I was bumptious, a rough chunck of ebony
Howbeit, He, my sculpter, the burin
The chivalrous Bishop of me, His diocese
He plays the king of life, I the rook
I, the hue that of sienna, now roseate
He changes me, unknown and unreluctantly
Vermiculite-cabochon-daimond
I am ebullient now,
when once I was valetudinary
And though my words seem a cacophony
I shall be illative, with or without my diffidence
I love Thee
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