Love’s impossible gauntlet
The Duke is sick from gimlets
In bed he slumps a gauntling
Around him a nightgaunt’s fret
Another will not allow such play as he let
The man he drank to run weighed down like a guitar fret
He stayed in one room of his house as if the rest was haunted
Irreligious little lord in him, lord little Fauntleroy’s aunt.
Alchemisland 
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