Category: Poetry
Something Else Again
Why shun me, my Chloe? Nor pistol nor bowie Is mine with intention to kill. And yet like a llama you run to your mamma; You tremble as though you were ill.
Chapters
3. Chapter 3
O Cynthia, hast thou lost thy mind? Have I no claim on thine affection? Dost love the chill Illyrian wind With something passing predilection? And is thy friend--whoe'er he be--...
1. Chapter 1Why shun me, my Chloe? Nor pistol nor bowie Is mine with intention to kill. And yet like a llama you run to your mamma; You tremble as though you were ill.
2. Chapter 2I was free. I thought that I had entered Love's Antarctic Zone. "A truce to sentiment," I said. "My nights shall be my own." But Love has double-crossed me. How can Beauty be so...