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Rated: E · Poetry · Mythology · #1652122
An attempt at a Shakespearean sonnet.
Wherefore elegant Elegance, wherefore
Dost thou torment me so? Dost thou not know?
Upon thy sight excitement strikes the core
Of this then molten mind and sets fire, slow,
To this wand’ ring soul! Thy seraphic grace,
The eternal envy of each swan, dost
Choke mine words and stutter mine verse and race
My heart close to its limits. Ay, the cost
Of tough shyness is dear, for never hast
Thou known of this intention or feeling.
I therefore my demure away must cast
And through a kiss leave thy skin screaming.
Alas, striking goddess, the sun is come
And I in mine talking, nothing have done.
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