Amorati

by: Pam Parisi

Lord Dudley calls.

Falls at her feet.

Sweet is his tongue.

Lung full of breath:

"Death should we part,

Heart of my life.

Wife shall you be!"

"Me? Nay not so.

Go, there's the door.

More I won't hear!

Fear you must leave."

Grieve not his loss,

Toss of her locks

Shocks him dead silent.

Pliant and pleading,

Needing her love

Dove of his heart,

Start again praising.

Raising his eyes,

Spies she is smiling,

Beguiling her charms,

Arms him with hope.

'Cope with this spurning.'

Burning, his ardor

Harder he woos.

Chooses she laughter.

After he flies

Dies her sweet mirth.

Birth of a sorrow;

Tomorrow shall he

Be at her call?

Small is her win

Chin in the air,

Care on her face,

Place in her heart,

Start of a thought:

Ought she to beckon?

Reckon with marriage?

Carriage most winsome

Handsome his form,

Warm is his touch,

Much she's adored.