LXXXVI

How do I loathe thee? Let me count the ways:
I loathe thee for thy hobbit-like feet.
And how, when I approach, thou then retreat
Into a morbid and intoxicated daze.
I loathe thee and thy purple haze
That surrounds me throughout the night.
I loathe thee and thy obstinate might;
I loathe thee every one of my days.
I loathe thee, for thou are quite obtuse
And miss the drift when I request thou remain.
I loathe thee, though thou art my muse
And inspire my art--
I loathe thee in vain.
And though I ask myself, "What is the use?"
I cannot loathe thee to my disdain.