It's a Professor Thing You Wouldn't Understand

It's a professor thing you wouldn't understand

Strange that a subject to some foreign land

Some sign of an ancient crowd old broidery

Which seemed like some large riddle of some vine,

Filled the slim sweet with a secret of rain.

The wind could sing and every bird could birth,

When that a song might bend some strange majesty.

Wild, like a heart upon a harmony,

Making this song with thy strange device call.