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My lady has a unicorn,. That lives on dreams alone;. She brings him roses with silver thorns,. He sleeps on the courtyard stones. He drinks of glassy waters,. And walks her pathless lawns,. Waiting for the sun to set,. Then waiting for the dawn. My lady has an orchard. Where the apples never fall -. The sun through leaves is cool and green. And shines on one and all. The season never changes;. The weather is always fine,. The birds that sing see everything,. My lady has a unicorn.

Structuralist Poetics and the New Criticism. A sample of my own verse is here.