And I,
I would be the weeping fiend.
And aye,
My words a sword to be
Shall cut
Most unwillingly
Thine heart and dreams
From thee.

So I,
Aye, will't be the weeping fiend,
Whom dost foul deeds
Most unwillingly.

And thou
Thou will't be the weeping tree
Whose boughs do bow
Most unwillingly
In sorrow, with a sigh to be
The final blow
The death of me.

Come thou and I,
Fiend and tree,
Farest both so foul
Most unwillingly.
 
Copyright © shadowdancer, All Rights Reserved