Thou Doth Not Wait

Tis thee M'Lord, whom render sleepless nights.
Tossing fitful upon awakening.
Hast thou sought services of acolytes?
Doest thou yearneth for such hastening?

Tis true love upon which ye postulate,
Hearkening joint desires and thoughts sublime?
Doeth we elope or absquatulate?
Shall we hasten Father Tick Tock of time?

Take me, Sir, in meadow, rear of carriage.
Removeth corset, grant mine acceptance.
Before mine hand in thine bids sweet marriage.
Seeketh ye in due time , thine repentance.

Footmen heareth not mine stifled laughter.
Tis wedding rings exchangeth hereafter.

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I love everything Victorian Era, the period furnishing, clothing, and old English language, therefore, I humbly submit this sonnet.