Sonnets to a Red-Haired Lady - Part 29

Thy motion fills the eye with minstrelsy,
As if thou wert a Song one could behold...
Proud sails of Venice steeped in ruddy gold,
Singing their colour down the charmed sea,
Move onward clad in music like to thee ...
As long as you can keep from getting old
I'm for you, Brick-Topped Sue, nor shall grow cold,
O Pink-Domed Theme for my Hyperbole!

My Twenty-ninth Wife used to change and change
And change the way she wore her hair and say:
" Now, don't you like it better, Love, this way? "
She seemed exhaustless in her hirsute range ...
I scalped her, Susie dear ... Ah, Welladay!
How sweet old memories are, how rare and strange!
Translation: 
Language: 
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.