March wull sarch, Eäpril wull try, Mäy u'll tell if you'll live or die. Buds a-break and milchi seeps Heady in the meadows Chalky children on the steep Baskets full of shadows Gapmouth spins a rattle song Air's an upturned ocean Swift's an axe hurled in the gloam Splits the Riddle open Now it looks it almost zounds Wordle zircles wider With the silence upside down Horse atop the rider Quaterevil takes a wife: Chilver meets her maker As the grindstone turns the knife O'er Eleven Acres Femboys in the forest find Figs of foul freedom Where the old you left behind Valls through nether-Eden Some must watch, while some must sleep So runs the wordle's way; A not-girl zweal-ed at the stake A-births the end of May