Swing soldier ol' spirit. Hollow amuse a-miss. I don't fear it- The willow a-wisp. Though I taste the pallet, Gradient of shape or color. No cob webs are in the attic... Where do I find the words to seldom utter? But green! A-vast, And covenant of the Wiccan... Though I raise my glass My path still lost was in riddance. A memoir/ A vision. Au Revoir/ The vision.