August 18, 2026
All things fall 'part, machin'ry first
Though steel fast is bound
By rivet, ring, through warp and weld
Still all to dust is ground
Then beams of wood, so finely hewn
And oily, they have been
Sustain a gap where water traps
'Til rot's wet dust is seen
Penel'pe rent her shroud each night
'Til virtue might return
Her act, to stranger, would seem mad
No order to discern
Perhaps the Weaver like has found
Good reason to decay
His sturdy strings, the fruit of Springs
But more we cannot say