Performed imperfectly,
conceived, not duly born;
not found entirely,
entirely not forlorn,
thus lies many a rhyme
biding, unripe in me,
the pleasurable time
of speakability.

Thus sleep the bushes' buds,
recondite and concealed;
no flower yet unfurled,
no leaf till now revealed;
but leaf and flower lie,
embedded eagerly
biding the day, the dawn . . .
the full parturiency.