He gave to her, yet tenfold claimed in return -
|
She hath no life but the one he for her wrought;
|
Proffered to her his walking heart - she turned it down,
|
Reposted with a tell-tale lore of lies and scorn.
|
|
Prophetess or fond?,
|
Though her parle of truth:
|
"I can tomorrow - refell me if ye can!",
|
Yet the kiss and breath - Apollo's bane -
|
Seer of the future, not of twain,
|
"Sicker!", quoth Cassandra.
|
|
Still, is she lief and quaint in his eye, a sight divine? -
|
A mistress fueled by his prest haughtiness -
|
If he did grant, wherefore then did he not foresee,
|
Belike egal as it to him might be?!
|
|
Prophetess or fond?,
|
Though her parle of truth:
|
"I can tomorrow - refell me if ye can!",
|
Yet the kiss and breath - Apollo's bane -
|
Seer of the future, not of twain,
|
"Sicker!", quoth Cassandra.
|
|
'Or was he an eried being,
|
'Or was he weening - alack nay mo;
|
Her naysay' rought his heart,
|
Her daffing was the grave of all hope -
|
She belied her own words,
|
He thought her life, save moreo'er scourge,
|
She held him august, yet wee;
|
He left her ne'er without his heart.
|
|
Though her parle of truth:
|
"I can tomorrow - refell me if ye can!",
|
Yet the kiss and breath - Apollo's bane -
|
Seer of the future, not of twain,
|
"Sicker!", quoth Cassandra.
|
|
'Or was he an eried being,
|
'Or was he weening - alack nay mo;
|
Her naysay' rought his heart,
|
Her daffing was the grave of all hope -
|
|
-----------------
|
Cassandra
|
| Theatre Of Tragedy |
