This little verse now I send,
A grievous wrong forthwith to mend.
That upon the eye I again inflict
The words that flow within this pitch.
By this you see that I decry
My twisted thought which gives the rise
To turn of phrase and fancy flight
That only serves to confuse poor sight!
How then may I begin amends
For that which eye and mind offend?
Why in earnest repartee
Do I embrace amphigory?
Now dear friend, this chorus close,
That I might in your heart enfold
This the object that you must see
Is for my pen my apology.