So he whistles it off, and marches on

“Plea XXI. Echoing Footsteps XXII. The Sea Still Rises XXIII. Fire Rises XXIV. D…”

“Although to restless and ardent minds, morning may be the fitting season for ex…”

“Can I view thee panting, lyingOn thy stomach, without sighing;Can I unmoved see…”

“You've got the key of the street.”