Damsels in hand
John ClareStokes
I don't think the damsels
Have a clue
The times I hold in hand
And compose lines for them
And if they did
And that brittle heart beat
In unison to mine
What good?
The language of damsels
Is one unwritten
Only the wind sings it
And damsels reply only then
And not to some
Age worn Triton.
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