The Whisperer

‘Yes some thing as that, ' Grumbled the Whisperer Over head the frowning clouds Struck seven. To the last Continued he Though through meandering Morasses and jungle-thick Trees and wood vast He had to get past Now struck nine. The whining leaves Regaled a scent Particular to the owls The wise owls had Their appetite As open as stark caves And liquid belting coves ‘Yes some thing as that, ' Grumbled the Whisperer. Fish swam In the archetypal pond A dragon by Lizard like spit out His forked rose tongue And From his nostrils Smoked A scent of Orient Pearls. ‘We are on sea to-day, ' The waters spoke. Then Came a garbled pilgrim Garbed in a multi-colored tunica He cast around And held precariously: Time knelt before him Bent his head In submission Smiled the pilgrim The garbed pilgrim The multi-colored pilgrim ‘Yes some thing as that, ' Grumbled the Whisperer Over head the frowning clouds Struck eleven.