Why are you quick to snub my upturned eyes?
They wait as Roman clients to your dole
And wither, thus neglected, when you frown
Or turn your head away to wait on one
Who but needs someone‘s help, while I need you;
Your smile, your words alone can heal this ache,
This melancholy doldrum, anguished hurt.
But if you will not comfort me, then please,
I pray you, in plain speech O tell me so,
That I, alone, may nurse the wounds of love
In misery ’til they do not hurt so much.
As anyone who knows me well could probably tell, I probably wrote this early in my college years. My conception of “Roman clients” is drawn nearly entirely from Julia Valeria by Elizabeth Gale. And that image is pretty much the sole reason I’ve considered posting this poem; I’d like to use it again in a better poem, or somehow improve this one. But in any case, I’ve now also posted this poem on my wiki. And as always I welcome and eagerly desire your feedback of any kind, though the more substantial the better, on this poem or any other part of my work–comments, questions, suggestions (particularly of a real title for this poem or of what to post next, since I’m running out of material), critique, or anything else.