E
emily.pompili
Guest
Reserve
Miss, you walk as though you never bent nor gave
before a rush of talk or tears or rage,
but held your ground. If I were to behave,
I would commend this strength beyond our age,
and be on my way to the next blank page,
where I would say briefly that you’re lovely.
That I miss you so soon and can not gauge
your depth: that is courting, not courtesy.
So, were I right in my head and polite
I would not say that your eyes behind your
shaken plumed mane struck me. But they were bright:
wakeful, and they cut, so I will. Ask more;
I would say that I could come to love you
but manner chains this, or anything true.
Miss, you walk as though you never bent nor gave
before a rush of talk or tears or rage,
but held your ground. If I were to behave,
I would commend this strength beyond our age,
and be on my way to the next blank page,
where I would say briefly that you’re lovely.
That I miss you so soon and can not gauge
your depth: that is courting, not courtesy.
So, were I right in my head and polite
I would not say that your eyes behind your
shaken plumed mane struck me. But they were bright:
wakeful, and they cut, so I will. Ask more;
I would say that I could come to love you
but manner chains this, or anything true.