I do not iron my shirt.
Wrinkled, I mock them!
(from the Song of the Bureaucrat, Vol IIIa - Picket Poems)
. Let the Naiads sing Who will wear the Starry Crown? Then eat cake. (from The Paean of Dignity, 3d edn)
Caribbean Dreams waylay us in deep winter but the snow prevails (from Crepuscular Idyll)
An invocation of contradiction of sorts Winter is still with us. (From Tales of Persepolis: Lockdown Lays)