What are you doing here? Put down that sword,
That's only poor old Tony, crazed and lame.
We never notice him. With my dear Lord
I ought not to have minded that he came.
But, Gervase, it surprises me that you
Should so lack grace to stay here.” With one hand
She held her gaping bodice to conceal
Her breast. “I must demand
Your instant absence. Everard, but new
Returned, will hardly care for guests. Adieu.”
“Eunice, you're mad.” His brain began to reel.
Pickthorn Manor: 35
Amy Lowell
(1)
Poem topics: never, poor, dear, notice, stay, brain, absence, demand, sword, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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