With potent, flowery words speak I, Of something common, vulgar, dry; I weave webs of pedantic prose, In effort to befuddle those, Who think I while time away, In lofty things, above all-day The common kind that lingers where Monadic beings live and fare; Practical I may not be, But life, it seems, is full of me! What am I?
With potent, flowery words speak I, Of something common, vulgar, dry; I weave webs of pedantic prose, In effort to befuddle those, Who think I while time away, In lofty things, above all-day The common kind that lingers where Monadic beings live and fare; Practical I may not be, But life, it seems, is full of me! What am I?
