In Just......Love’s Labor’s Lost
       (a confluence of e.e.c and w.s.)

The little, lame balloonman casts his love 
in syncopated free verse on the page.
Fair Rosaline! you hypnotize his Each
and Every Coming word all laced and feathered
with an edge of Frost: To wit? To woo!

O Berowne, Rosaline has turned your head,
She fools you with her eyes, buteddieandbill
insist the impish, old balloonman loves 
her too. They know the curse of jealousy.
They laugh,"Your heart will burn!"

                       "Tu-whit, tu-woo!"
The owl coos at eventide while by
the fire greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
The happy, fat balloonman clicks his hooves;
he sings and plays his pipes: tu-whit, tu-woo!

—C. Dahlen, Siren, WI