This was the edict: When the snow first fell,
He headed for the High Country, to stay
Until the bears took out their winter trash
And mockingbirds regained their higher range.
Meanwhile, he’d cover one royal family
In hexametric verse—Plantagenets
One January, Hapsburgs, though he fell
Asleep, spilling his ink, in staunching them.
The lynx, extinct, as all good families knew,
Admired declamation, and he fed
The shrews his extra feet. I say, he said,
Attempting the Romanovs, when comets fell,
Or airplanes, on his field of vision, there
Between his clothesline and the Finland Train.
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