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| User: | miniver (167878) |
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| Name: | Miniver Cheevy | ||||||||||
| E-mail: | friarsghost@gmail.com | ||||||||||
| AOL IM: |  Ven badger (Add Buddy, Send Message) | ||||||||||
| Bio: | [This journal belongs to a fictional character. Nothing in here is real. The writer is not Miniver, nor are they Gilby Clarke or Adam Green or some random dude who models shit on Etsy, all of whose faces are used to represent him. Note to UTR people: Miniver's typing is purposefully atrocious and random on the main comm. Because it's Miniver's typing and he's usually high while doing it. Do not take his typing as an indication of the player's, etc.]  Miniver Cheevy, child of scorn, Grew lean while he assailed the seasons He wept that he was ever born, And he had reasons. Miniver loved the days of old When swords were bright and steeds were prancing; The vision of a warrior bold Would send him dancing. Miniver sighed for what was not, And dreamed, and rested from his labors; He dreamed of Thebes and Camelot, And Priam's neighbors. Miniver mourned the ripe renown That made so many a name so fragrant; He mourned Romance, now on the town, And Art, a vagrant. Miniver loved the Medici, Albeit he had never seen one; He would have sinned incessantly Could he have been one. Miniver cursed the commonplace And eyed a khaki suit with loathing: He missed the medieval grace Of iron clothing. Miniver scorned the gold he sought, But sore annoyed was he without it; Miniver thought, and thought, and thought, And thought about it. Miniver Cheevy, born too late, Scratched his head and kept on thinking; Miniver coughed, and called it fate, And kept on drinking. Edwin Arlington Robinson | ||||||||||
| Friends: | |||||||||||
| Friend of: | 4: deusexvampira, heyheylisten, twiceloved, ultimafury | ||||||||||
| Member of: | 5: passing_notes, undertherainbow, utr_logs, utr_ooc, yardwolves | ||||||||||
| Account type: | Free Patient | ||||||||||
