Feb 2015
She is captivating:
She is my pet,
She is my fire,
My little nymphet.
Annabel, dearest, of sea-word waves,
Of sandcastles torn down by hungry waters.
Even now, the scepter of my passion
Stands at attention with memory.
As Humbert ages, his desire stays
Grown ladies don’t suffice.
As he dreams of Annabel in sea-word waves,
Nymphets become his vice.
But I am no liar--I am no ******
Ladies and gentleman of the jury, be calm.
And recognize that Humbert’s eyes
See your every qualm.
Nevertheless, she is captivating:
She is my pet
She is my fire
My little nymphet.
She is my pet,
She is my fire,
My little nymphet.
Annabel, dearest, of sea-word waves,
Of sandcastles torn down by hungry waters.
Even now, the scepter of my passion
Stands at attention with memory.
As Humbert ages, his desire stays
Grown ladies don’t suffice.
As he dreams of Annabel in sea-word waves,
Nymphets become his vice.
But I am no liar--I am no ******
Ladies and gentleman of the jury, be calm.
And recognize that Humbert’s eyes
See your every qualm.
Nevertheless, she is captivating:
She is my pet
She is my fire
My little nymphet.
My poem for my research paper about ****** by Vladimir Nabokov. Anyone who is familiar with the work should understand the subject and what he means by "scepter of his passion"
