Excerpt from The Old Fountain Inn: And Other Poems
Oh! will he not forbear - forsooth!
Or turn his eyes away?
He brandishes unwelcome truth,
And fills me with dismay.
I've tried some simple rhymes of late,
And full-armed there he stands!
I think - I feel - I know I hate
To trust me in his hands!
I pout my lip, - I stamp my foot, -
I frown, - I look askance,
He tears up by the very root
The weed I name romance.
My poetry - he dubs it prose,...
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