Like the light’ning in crazed velocity,
The dame, swathed in fury, charged at him.
Humiliating his giant courage,
As his soles had the loyal earth betrayed.
Charged she continuously at the baffled,
Veiled to him: the stir of the race battle.
Under a cedar tree at noon he sat,
Reminiscing, ” What have I done to prompt that? “
Then saw he an aloof folk passing by:
Like the torpedo ignores ships that ply.
Turned on by jealousy, he pursued it.
(“Gutsy!”) Till he caught up and possessed it.
Thus is money: run from who run to it.
In jealousy, run to who run from it.
Ancestor. Ancestral Pen. Juxtaposition II
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