Ode On Short Rib Ragù

Note to Ode Enthusiasts: This is a ten line stanza in iambic pentameter following the scheme ABAB and a Miltonian sestet CDEDCE. Styled after the first stanza of Keats’ Ode On A Grecian Urn, and guaranteed to fall short.

Warning: Elizabethan tone ahead

What magic doth transpire 'tween mind and pot
That warmly welcometh what once formed cage,
But now is seasoned, salted, shredded, brought
To tenderness thy hand hath come to gauge.
I sense the bay leaf draping sprigs of thyme,
Its fragrance courting parsley laying soft
Upon a bed of blushing carrots and
Rosemary aromatic, wont to waft
Toward my sense olfactory till I’m
Impassioned forth to rise and kiss thine hand.