Now I was thinking without methodin a daze.

A MINOR POET TO HIMSELF SONNET EDWIN PARTRIDGE LEHMAN '10 We lesser poets clothe in garb ornate, In words of dizzy fire, in awkward phrase, In humble thunderings, that only daze, Though meant to rouse in flames of love or hate, The thoughts that those brave souls of stuff divine, Whose words breathe inspiration, have long since In jewelled lines set forth.