Come hither

No comments // Sep 24th, 2007 // Personal, Poetry, Sonnets

I see thou hast replied in no such haste,
Unto which fills me with sorrow, dear sir;
Nor hath my advances been to your taste,
At what path did one cause thee to demur?
Make no mistake, o guardian of words,
I am but gentle, no perversity;
Although, I must admit, likewise the birds,
This tête-à-tête foreplay fills me with glee!
Now I hath thrown you a ball or fourteen,
Ne’er so unscrupulously in doubt,
I command you to take hold of this scene
And forevermore pen your words and shout!
I leave now you to solemnly uphold
Your duties, young gent – come hither or fold.