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by Paige DeRosa

You rode tall upon a steed of white,
I'd watch you from afar,
for you were the one and only,
to ever reach my heart.

You turned to me with easy grace,
your face so noble, so proud.
But, my mind often wondered,
had you divined the things I'd vowed?

To love no other than my dearest own,
A promise my heart had kept,
a pain so bold, ne'er deeper known,
into my breast had crept.
When learned the moment that I was,
of your dotage on damoiselle le peche,
Alas and hark! My cries aloud,
No more, no more shall I say.

This tongue of mine, this indolent thing,
'twas made for me to suffer,
the gales of wind and sea-sharp rocks,
'twere born to be my buffer.

For shame, for shame, for all my days,
no lover now shall I take,
To death, to despair, to endless sleep,
promises no more shall I make.

Alas, farewell, a kiss and adieu,
our eyes no more shall meet.
Nor lips shall sing in dreaming praise,
My grave alone, I greet.

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