What's a type of irony for this poem and why?
once on the kind of day called weather breeder when the heat slowly hazesand the sun by its own power seems to be undone i was how boring through have climbing through a swamp of cedar took with oil or cedar and scruffy plans and wearing overheated i'm sorry i ever left the road i knew i pause and rest on a sort of hook the hammy by the coat as good as seated and since there was no other way to look looked up toward heaven and there again so blue stood over me a resurrected tree a tree that have been down and raise again a barkless specture he had halted to as if for fear of treading upon me i saw the strange position of his hands upon his shoulders dragging yellow strands a why was something in it from man to man you hear i said why aren't you nowadays and wasn't used to carry if you know and tell me where you're off for monterel me i'm not offer anywhere at all sometimes i winter out of beat and days have looking for the orchard the calypso