Читать книгу Something Else Again - Franklin P. Adams - Страница 10

"Vitas hinnuleo me similis, Chloë——"

Why shun me, my Chloë? Nor pistol nor bowie

Is mine with intention to kill.

And yet like a llama you run to your mamma;

You tremble as though you were ill.

No lion to rend you, no tiger to end you,

I'm tame as a bird in a cage.

That counsel maternal can run for The Journal— You get me, I guess. … You're of age.