Ellis Parker Butler (Эллис Паркер Батлер)
An Exception
In all romances, old and new, And in all lover's rhymes I find one rule that has held true Since prehistoric times. The lover must, if he indeed Be hit by Cupid's dart, Grow pale, sigh much, neglect his food, And wholly lose his heart. Now fain would I abide this rule But I, forsooth, grow red And hot, and stammer like a fool, And only lose my head.
Ellis Parker Butler’s other poems:
883