|
Maid, truly |
|
I see Now it must be a long way down |
|
And with love's burnt shore |
|
Must all dalliance hither |
|
Crumble and wither |
|
Oh strange, |
|
Methought it strange |
|
Thou couldst deprive me of my crown |
|
Thou cast upon me as linden bears fruit of bitter strain |
|
And I would go forsooth to the dragon's tooth |
|
If thus a chance were gained |
|
To resurrect that part of your wanton heart |
|
To whose grave my own is chained |
|
And hold, ere thou dost go |
|
Were not thy moments gilded too? |
|
And in honesty didst thou not measure for measure |
|
Countenance pleasure? |
|
Cold wert thou so cold |
|
Lest thy mind be frozen too |
|
And will not spring be reborn |
|
But might the sun for the frost here |
|
That all be not lost herein |
|
And I would rather, zounds |
|
It were hell's own hounds |
|
Whose foul breath upon my face |
|
Did portent my doom |
|
Than to bear the gloom |
|
Of a world stripped of thy grace |
|
And so in truth |
|
I know Yes it will be a long way down |
|
And if go thou must |
|
Ere we should meet accidental |
|
Prithee be gentle |
|
And though distant now |
|
Perchance the hand of time may soothe |
|
And though lost at six |
|
If I should live to be seven |
|
I might forget |
|
Stephanie |
