Explore "An Ultimatum to Myrtilla" by Franklin P. Adams on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
(Inspired by the shameless styles in hair.)
Ah, Myrtilla mine, you said -- / And your tone was earnest, very -- / You would never deck your head / With this vernal millinery.
Myrt, to mince no words, you lied; / Oh, that I should live to know it! / You that are my nearly-bride; / I that am your nearly-poet!
For I saw the awful lid / You had on at 10 this morning; / Myrt, it was a merrywid, / Spite of my decisive warning.
Still, I can forgive you that; / Though the thing look ne'er so silly; / I will overlook the hat / If you promise this, Myrtillie:
Wear your lacebelows and fluffs; / Wear the awfullest creations -- / But -- omit the stylish puffs / And the vogueish transformations.
Myrt, if you inflate your hair / I shall -- well -- excoriate you, / And, I positively swear, / Loathe, despise, detest, and hate you.