…And ev’ry day that cometh, void of haste,
Wherein I might muse o’er whate’er I will—
Of other lives, of folly, fables, and waste—
Lo, there art thou, ’twixt hand and page, still.
Tetrameter Thirty-three
By
By
…And ev’ry day that cometh, void of haste,
Wherein I might muse o’er whate’er I will—
Of other lives, of folly, fables, and waste—
Lo, there art thou, ’twixt hand and page, still.
mvrcodelrio.com 
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