If words were like bricks, i'd build you a universe

the poet: but if to engyneer is e diecree, i'd despaire for my inability.

for e steaym engyne or the belletower's pylons i'd fayl to sturdy

& if should a blooe print be writ and exaecuted,

he should be at lorest and most vexed,

i cannot build you contraepsions, mehkanisasions, &c

lo, behould, if you woud, myne faire floret,

that withe parchemente & pen & ink & a dose of sprynkled magick

i'd engyneer & drayft & contriive & car-pen-ter worlds for you,

& flowey poetry,

& you a heroine i'd wryte

& of e seasons,

& you e colours of gold surmmer,

and amber Fall,

& of encharnting enraptre,

& dilight

all these i'd giv,

i'd in ink & set,

only if you'd chuse a poet,

o'er an engyneer's elect