Today my thoughts are upon Mr. Darcy.
Poor soul. He felt that it was his manly duty to present himself as unaffected and possessing all the dignity and pomp of his situation. He was, indeed, unable to rightly express his adoration in the spoken word, and so he turned to the quill to pen, with emotion, his deepest feelings for Elizabeth. We are left to ponder how guarded his words were even as he penned them. It is necessary to dig into the soul of Darcy and see what may arise when we imagine a more poetic and less strictly logical version of his love.
Darcy Hiku One through Seven
Ah Elizabeth,
You haughty, witty, lovely,
Please allow me in.
My empty soul cries,
It screams out, LIZZY,
But I must hide it.
Am I so stuck up,
That I neglect to notice,
The love she bears me.
I am to marry,
A girl I do not want to,
What can a man do?
Yes I condescend
To even speak to her now
Yet she is different.
She is too truthful
Her light blush keeps me guessing
Do I stand a chance?
Dash it all my dear
Yes I know you are the ONE
How will I ask you?
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