Rhythmic and Metric

The Dowager is Dead

Your look lascivious
did shame the dowager;
You’re but a cottager,
one that’s presumptuous.

She came here yesterday,
Expressed her quandary:
You’d crossed the boundary
in that companionway.

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Today exanimate
lies breast hers thunderstruck;
Suicide at Naugatuck
is what we apprehend.

You shamed the dowager;
Awaits jail, cottager.

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