The lost and lonely ignominious ebullience 

   Was a devout player

        The screed of far fetched Porto hillsides 

            Had a message; be careful on wet streets, nonetheless 

  There was a Shakespearian epilogue to his sadness

     The books were there

     The witch was in her cage

And spirits blossomed speaking

    For your better half;

   Pray and pass the coffee, sweet thing