Comments about Faeo 'Lyre' Clive
Do Not Abolish Anger
Let him red, inflamed, light up the darksome;
Fuel it - - grassy and humid, and let glow.
Fresh and pure anew, let Fury live though
Would sour of her flake-of-snow so noisome.
On an abacus, would ire be handed
over to nothing, tinged with his colour?
A case without which never his dolour
Has been appeased and humour well blended.