Explore "To Myrtilla Complaining" by Franklin P. Adams on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Myrtie, you weep that the bard has neglected you, / Passed you, forgotten you, let you alone. / Bless you, Myrtilla, I never suspected you / Ever would speak to me, sweet, in that tone.
Myrtie, you say that my poems are penned to you / Only on days when I've nothing to do, / Otherwise I have no time to attend to you, / Others, you say, are more weighty than you.
Sweet, you allege I have not enough time for you, / Yes, and you say that I hold you but light, / Only when pressed do I reel off a rhyme for you
Lady Myrtilla, you've doped it out right.