Downtuned and highly strung

No longer linger
No nylon near fingers
No vibration to hinder stoicism of wood
Sung silence in sonnets
Still siren alone sits
in reliance upon its stone prison of floods

Lens of high water
renders red shorter
than courtships with daughters allergic to blue
Mending my mortar
commendable thoughts are
compounded and brought before court, defined true

Deafened and drowned and muted anew
Never to be found convoluted this hue
Heaven be bound to polluting the brew
This irreverent clown, quite as stupid as you and the rest
Might be grouped by the blue and by melancholy blessed

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