Chapter 563 of 1964 · 63 words · ~1 min read

V.

Some have accused me of a strange design Against the creed and morals of the land, And trace it in this poem every line: I don't pretend that I quite understand My own meaning when I would be _very_ fine; But the fact is that I have nothing planned, Unless it were to be a moment merry-- A novel word in my vocabulary.