The Root of Week IV (Thursday Edition)

And so open here I fling the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, in there steps a raven of the saintly days of yore.

And this raven, never flitting, still with patient perch is sitting, on the gleaming statue of the Swami by the door.

And his eyes have all the seeming of that Swami who is dreaming, of the spawn and wife who family mantle burdens bore,

And this raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling, on this night shall ease their plight, and bear them past Week Four*.

That is all.

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*The Spawn and Factor, and whole lot of other people.