A poem I wrote as homage to the book, Pride and Prejudice, and in consequence of a brief exchange between Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy as to the power of poetry to advance the course of love… or not.
DARCY’S DILEMMA: [or] A Nearly Witty Ditty Somewhat Out of Character for Our Hero
In vain I struggle to contend
no impact had her coquetry
upon my self, to recommend
a foray into poetry.
Nor would she kindly look on me
were I to ply her with trite rhymes.
Such missives poison love, says she,
affections slain in best of times.
Yet how should her regard I move
if verse be not the manner right?
E’en heedless of my own reprove
my passions does she yet ignite.
I fear the beast has captured me,
I can no longer truth rebuff.
Miss E. torments me by degree
for I am all consumed with love.