For lack of any better act to do
I took her frigid hand, clasped it in mine
I looked into her eyes, which lost their shine
But not their love- my smile did renew.
Long after the mourning procession left
Lit pyres faded, and the twilight fall
Bonfires the only light, make shadows tall
Did I engage in my unnatural theft.
Her heart was not the only thing I stole
Smiling, I brushed a lock of her hair back
Her cheeks their rosy luster did not lack
Unnatral, crude work of man warned my soul.
But my love for her was not merely love
But something deeper, perchance that was why
That to this gentle girl- oho! How shy!
And how sweet that she was! Much like a dove.
That in a fit of emotion, I thought
That I must have her always, no one else
Mayhap I was ruled by passion, jealous
That some other man would her heart have sought.
So in our quiet stroll above the moor
With my aid, the poor trusting creature slipped
My feet betraying her, and thus she tipped
Fell dashed upon the rocks