Analysis of In March, In Step, All Trampled in Fury

People, they steeped, stepping,
they thought necessarily nerved,
and I, not knowing kindly why.

I could not keep my questions,
my quizzical nature of needing,
 knowledge of why things were.

How they hurried here this time,
in such comical canters chosen,
they came chancing my company.

And I picking my puzzlements,
these refined emotes unencountered,
of torments you thought therapeutic.