Ah, be still my pounding -- heart (of course -- what else?). I am forgiven, my E is true, she is mine, and only mine, and I only hers. Be off, ye faithless others, cease flaunting your charms before me, for I flout your wanton imprecations.
Ah, my half-base-coated canvas, I must for the moment, for my business calls me to another isle, but when I return be sure I will speak to you, to the innocent purity of your ears only, of the next steps which await us on this glorious and fast-approaching eve of Beltane.
'till then. |
