In the tree, a blizzy yule of apples 
and by the apples a little dwansoft birdling 
groping the nubnickle hardprick of a twigspree:
and between them both, a long curled adderwraith, 
wisting still, while Eve looked high and thirling 
toward that uncurl, sloomy wruggler who leaned

unfast, unseemly out of the stalky leafclitch, 
unwimbling, to sick a cosset where her choke was 
and drink a little at the spittlebliss of her lipworms.

And the barkdrit, keeling under that slew bodyling, 
took up naked leafings and bits of cling, 
till Eve saw only a little eye on a blickdot starring,

licking at her so seesadly between leafcuts 
with a clinging bright drop of skylaugh in it. 
And O! what windbird, fearscritching, flagging the loft!

while she wist only that hairless, unwink slutherer 
whelking there, lusty: and knowing she was taken, 
stretched up her arm until her fingers clitched

and yerked the wondrous apple to her erring heart.