In me, you’ll find the love in Shakespeare’s eyes;
Same love he had for Viola de Lesseps
And fears not the perilous Wessex
Hola my Viola!
Come sail ye with me in my Hispaniola
The feeling that made him go gay in outer dream;
The love that pulled his puppet strings,
And made him endure life’s follies in short gleam,
Breaking verges and crossing river banks
I pray to lie in your bosom way—
And slowly with your boobies play,
And do the holy palmers’ kiss
Till the morning bell rings.
Be you at the zenith of the goddess love’s tower,
To see you I shall bare its thorn crown,
Take its chastises and yet not frown,
Convey its cross to my death,
And at the end,
On my lips, I want to feel your fragrant breathe.
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