Albi ne doleus...
What good does it to fret and kick
over the latest indiscretions of a thoughtless girl
Albi, or churn out strophes on love's labor
lost to a younger man?
Behind her bangs Lycorida
burns with lust for Cyrus-himself unashamed
to worship Pholean, that slut, who claims
'Sooner will Apulian wolves
Shag Coan ewes than I that snake! '
Suchwise is brazen Venus pleased to vex us
yoking disparate souls in twain, then laughing
cruelly at her joke.
Why. I myself was wooed by a highborn lass
once, but fell to the charms of Myrtle, who in fact,
purchased her bonds, turned 'round and slipped
them smoothly on me.
poem by Morgan Michaels
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
