Refrained Sonnet

 

The Refrained Sonnet- an Italian sonnet with a twist created by Lisa Morris writing on Allpoetry as Streambed.

This is a modified Italian Sonnet.

Metric: Iambic pentameter.
Rhyme Scheme: abba cbbc dbbd bb
Refrain: The first four syllables of line one, are repeated in lines 5 and 9.
The fourth syllable of the refrain establishes the b-rhyme.

Here is Lisa’s first example.

I Did Not Go

I did not go with thoughts of turning back;
regret is something I so little know,
though now green fields lay spread with loss’ snow,
I still take joy in leaving my boot-tracks.

I did not go because I hoped he’d change,
or more, to watch another flower blow;
I find new blooms all places that I sow;
I need not leave my footpath, or its range.

I did not go to only come again;
the stars above are hopeful in their glow
because I fled his murky undertow
and found myself, and God, and better men.
But if he calls for me in words sweet, low,
please tell him I’ve forgotten all, and grow.

My Example

The Electric Universe

If it is true from naught that something came
that opens up a metaphysics view,
but leaves us still without a single clue
from whence that something started just the same.

If it is true there once was a big pop,
that in a picosecond somehow grew
the stuff for zinc, and shale, and caribou
then must one wonder what might make it stop.

If it is true a steady state exists,
(and I’m inclined to think that that is true),
and gravity is not the only glue
that drives the order, which so far, persists
electric forces must receive their due;
and we’ve no way to guess when they’ll be through.

Lawrence Eberhart @ October, 2017

Here is a Visual Template

Heroic Crown of Sonnets: The Princess (Sensual)

I stood upon the ancient parapet,
yes, recklessly atop the castle walls
the stone was slick, and gray and still so wet
from rain that night had brought with heavy fall.
My room below was safe, and dry and pink;
a letter waited there on filmy bed;
high, high upon the wall I went to think
to clear the sighs and tangles from my head.
The letter had a seal that made me cold,
it glittered in the window’s dawny light;
I knew the ink inside would be black, bold;
unopened, it had lay there all the night.
I walked the parapet in ache and doubt;
my gown was caught by wind and blown about.
My gown was caught by wind and blown about;
I wobbled then, and grasped a jutting wall,
but let it go; yes, heedlessly I’d flout
caution’s bounds and tempt a deadly fall;
I didn’t care; my stomach thrilled inside
to see how high, how very high I stood;
I lifted chin, and arms I opened wide
and played at bird; I thought the feeling good.
I frolicked then, atop the windy stone
and felt the wind press right against my eyes;
I stumbled back to roof, too fiercely blown
but parapet I climbed again; this rise
did not concern me with its heady threat;
I gave great thought to where each foot was set.
I gave great thought to where each foot was set;
another hour I spent there in the sun,
until the stone showed not a bit of wet
and I was tired of airy, windy fun.
Then I sought out my room and letter there,
which waited still; I broke the royal seal
and thick black words then rose and grimly stared
quite heedless of the way they made me feel.
My father wrote; he ordered me away
to meet him in great castle in the east.
A bridegroom waited, in his fine array,
a mighty match was made, and mighty feast.
I packed my trunks, and trousseau and my flute,
I wore my beaded shoes along my route.
I wore my beaded shoes along my route,
they made me feel that all would turn out well;
but then the man could be a wicked brute;
we’d never met, I had no way to tell.
My father made me travel in disguise;
in abbot’s clothes I traveled with the priests,
and in this way he kept me from men’s eyes-
so few I’d seen! (They told me men were beasts.)
We traveled days; a man then joined our train;
I saw his face! I loved! My heart was hot!
I watched him through the window and in pain;
desire stirred; but this I’d never sought.
I pulled my clothes away from legs within;
the sun was bright and warmed my chilly skin.
The sun was bright and warmed my chilly skin;
the man was walking by my carriage door;
I loved the beard upon his very chin,
I felt no woman ever loved before!
We stopped the night in town with so few rooms,
and host, unknowing, bunked the man with me!
I called him to my bed, my longing womb
then told me there was something more to see…
He thought me man, so I pulled off my clothes
and offered then my troth to plight and give
or he should leave! He said, “My passion shows!
Yes! Give me ring and share the life I live!”
He taught me joy throughout that magic night!
I laughed deep, low, with sweetness of delight.
I laughed deep, low, with sweetness of delight,
we didn’t sleep at all, and glared at dawn;
and though we saw the coming of the light
we didn’t want love’s night to be all gone
so we ignored the stirring of the place
and while I sat atop my thrilling steed
the door swung open, and an old man’s face
showed shock and horror; horror yes indeed!
For Holy Abbot was not even man!
And more than that, he was a princess, high!
And more than that (he couldn’t understand!)
the princess was in bed! Her royal thighs!
Astonished, he went out the door again.
A man called Jove knew all my secret sin.
A man called Jove knew all my secret sin,
he was a knight who served my father well;
my troth was plighted, but I knew just then
the worth of that- for Jove of course would tell.
But what of journey? And the waiting groom?
It was too late- I loved- it was too late.
Unless of course, they sent my love to tomb;
my father’s anger might not hesitate.
The man I loved was high born and well made,
his name was Samuel; pleasant was his wit;
a rugged swordsman, skilled with many blades-
yes, surely surely, they’d see he was fit.
I pulled him near, and held him very tight;
the past’s black chains seemed paper in the light.
The past’s black chains seemed paper in the light;
a wedding now seemed black and full of fear
unless to he I bound with in the night;
yes, bound with well and truly, charming dear!
And still we moved through hills and moors and streams,
onward, onward, to reach my father’s halls;
but half the time I was immersed in dreams
of Samuel’s whispers and his passion calls.
I gave up costume, and let Samuel ride
in royal carriage, cuddled up to me,
but sometimes we would walk at carriage side
along stone paths, beneath the spreading trees.
I was so glad, so glad, he was my own;
I danced; my pretty steps rang out on stone.
I danced; my pretty steps rang out on stone;
he laughed and kissed, because my eyes were bright,
the knights were angry when we were alone
and kept us from each other in the night.
Yes, no one knew how Father might respond
and if this other marriage must be had,
the less that I was left to cling and bond
the less that I would think the marriage bad.
But all shook heads; no virgin now was I!
No holy prize! No lamb to shear with pride!
If diplomatic favors I would buy
far fewer now would buy this unchaste bride.
My father might have much to say to me!
The wind picked up and roared most dismally.
The wind picked up and roared most dismally,
we stayed the night with Duke in castle keep;
I tossed and turned, a restless, churning sea;
within the mighty bed I couldn’t sleep.
I called my maid and made her rub my back,
but still I sighed, and listened to the wind,
and to the castle’s groan and heave and crack;
the old rooms talked and felt like gentle friend.
At last I sent Suzanne back to her bed
and leaned my face against the window glass,
so wishing, wishing, wishing I was wed
and all the worry was already past.
While sitting in the window all alone,
I felt sweet love roar up in every bone.
I felt sweet love roar up in every bone,
and I got up, and pulled on velvet cloak,
and went right then to seek what was my own,
I found his room, himself, his kiss, his stroke…
Once more the night was spent as nights should be
and we were laughing in the candlelight.
I said, “You know you’re risking death for me…
Are you afraid it might not turn out right?”
He said, “My time with you is worth the rest;
if I should die, I die a man well loved,
and loved by you, I’d die a man well blessed;
I’ve had the joys they say they have above.”
He said, “Come stand and turn, and let me see.”
I spun, while joy was throbbing up in me.
I spun, while joy was throbbing up in me,
and he delighted in my flesh and reached
to graze the hips then turning, turning free
before he seized, and huskily, beseeched.
I gave him what he wished and loving, craved,
and softly kissed his chest, and neck and cheeks;
I paused to pray to God he would be saved-
that we would have the favor honor seeks.
I went back to my rooms through quiet halls
the guards, asleep, then never moved or stirred.
With dawn, I feared my father’s love was small
though in the past he’d praised my every word.
But then he might roar “Death!” while Samuel fell…
I knew my secret I would have to tell.
I knew my secret I would have to tell;
and we were almost there! Oh what a thing!
And yet what if instead, I had done “well”
and never told my love or traded rings,
and married other man while loving him?
Yes, surely that is sinning just as much
as telling truth. Perhaps it is more prim
to wait for priest before the wedded touch,
but if I had, no chance would then remain;
my only chance of love was love embraced.
But we were there! Would darling man be slain?
I entered court and saw my father’s face!
I trembled with a fear I couldn’t quell!
I spoke the truth, and then I fell! I fell!
I spoke the truth, and then I fell! I fell!
The bridegroom waited there, and royal priest.
My father rose and looked at Samuel well.
A perfect silence reigned- all movement ceased.
My father called my name and made me stand;
he said, “So this man pleases you, my dear?”
I said, “My heart so loves his fine command
I couldn’t bear a life without him near.”
My father said, “We’ve sought a tie for years
with Samuel’s house. The wedding is tonight.
You’ve done a thing that bribes and war and tears
could never bring to terms or friendly light.
My daughter, you have done a royal thing
with little hands, and sweetly traded rings.
I stood upon the ancient parapet,
my gown was caught by wind and blown about,
I gave great thought to where each foot was set,
I wore my beaded shoes along my route.
The sun was bright and warmed my chilly skin;
I laughed deep, low, with sweetness of delight.
a man called Jove knew all my secret sin,
the past’s black chains seemed paper in the light.
I danced; my pretty steps rang out on stone,
the wind picked up and roared most dismally;
I felt sweet love roar up in every bone,
I spun, while joy was throbbing up in me;
I knew my secret I would have to tell;
I spoke the truth, and then I fell! I fell!

Heroic Crown of Sonnets: The Fairy



The fairy princess chose him for a king;
she found him walking through a crowded wood,
and followed him on iridescent wing;
her heart then singing fairy music good.
He was not young, but fairies see the soul
his mind was diamond, heart was rainbowed light;
she saw where others were a mass of coal
this man, this one, was brilliant beacon bright.
She flitted then, from branch to branch, concealed
and judged the man on way and secret thought;
she saw in him some wicked ways revealed,
but basked in beauty deep within him, caught.
She feared to love; though loving would be just;
the man was fragile, born of clay and dust.

The man was fragile, born of clay and dust,
a short-lived mortal, hardly just a breath.
Though heart toward love was wildly, deeply thrust
she knew her love would only end in death.
A fairy prince would make a better king;
a thousand years would pass like seven days,
but love a man? How sharp would be the sting
when breath was gone; how short man’s spirit stays!
She shuddered then, with thought of all the loss
and yet his soul was lovelier than theirs;
no fairy prince had half his rainbow’s gloss
no fairy prince had such a light to share.
No, it was he who must and should be king.
Her fairy eyes took in the joy he’d bring.

Her fairy eyes took in the joy he’d bring,
what sweet delight his reign would mean to her;
if he, a man, were made the fairy king,
so many hearts would sing with joy and stir;
the fairy babes would each bask in his light,
and grow so strong, and brighter for his thought;
and in the dances on the moony nights
the songs would glitter with the notes he taught;
yes, all the world of fairies would rejoice
if broad-souled man would take the fairy crown;
the woods were filled by glory of his voice;
in waves of music sweetly she would drown.
And yet though love rose thrilling and robust,
her fairy heart knew better than to trust.

Her fairy heart knew better than to trust;
she knew that men are fickle, and unkind,
and yet she felt despite it all she must
reveal herself and all her fairy mind.
She sang a harmony to all his song
and when he looked, she landed at his feet,
then made herself much taller, then and strong
’til eye to eye the two of them should meet.
He saw her wings, and knew just what she was;
remembering the stories as a child;
his old heart quailed, and he stepped back because
her beauty’s force was absolutely wild.
He took her hand, but didn’t tell the truth;
he sought through her the secret rose of youth.

He sought through her the secret rose of youth;
the legends told the fairies had this thing;
he didn’t tell the fairy all the truth
because he feared just what the truth would bring.
Yet he was old, his life was nearly spent
and if this rose was in his hands indeed,
the years would fall, and time’s hold would be rent,
while he bloomed freshly as a springing seed.
He wanted this; he hungered for his strength.
What joy to stand in passion’s door again!
The fairy heard his thoughts and all their length,
and knew just what to offer to him then.
“Come with me now, your troubles will be slain;
some blooms are balms and heal men from life’s pain.”

“Some blooms are balms and heal men from life’s pain,
and I have one that counteracts the years;
why should you age, when sweet one, you could reign,
and never feel another lonely tear?
Come with me now, and take my fairy hand,
and I will give you kingdoms, and my love.
My heart is yours to have and to command,
and you will find me docile as a dove.”
She drew up then; he yearned for her embrace;
her form was lush and promised much delight;
she saw herself reflected in his face
and subtle change in vibrant rainbow light.
He wanted her, as well as rose of youth;
she sought in him an echo of her truth.

She sought in him an echo of her truth;
a fairy’s soul is always changing form;
a fairy heart retains the joy of youth,
and adds to it a passion ever warm;
a fairy sees itself in all its works;
the flowers bloomed, the stars well-shined at night,
no fairy child ever hides or shirks
because their jobs are always a delight.
She loved this man; he loved her love so well,
that they were married, in a fairy ring;
and all the fairies rang the flower bells,
and human man was crowned the fairy king.
So king and queen began their magic reign;
she lay with him and all his griefs were slain.

She lay with him and all his griefs were slain,
such rapture there beneath her fairy wings!
Their jasper cave was lovely in the rain,
and they had joys that only love can bring.
He felt his age when stroking her smooth skin;
her strength was such he wished his own was more;
she saw these thoughts while in his arms again,
and kissed his cheek, then flew through jasper door.
Her heard her land in gravel late at night,
and in her arms she bore a glowing bloom;
it filled the cave with gentle crimson light,
and glorified the shining jasper room.
She came to him as if she’d lie and rest,
he held her close; she placed rose in his breast.

He held her close; she placed rose in his breast,
and as he slept, the years each fell away.
The rose’s scent perfumed the cave and blessed;
the rose’s bloom unworked cruel time’s decay.
When morning came; he rose a man of power,
his body twenty, or perhaps eighteen;
and how he blessed the magic of the flower
that left his skin so perfect, smooth and clean.
The fairy laughed to see the joy he took,
and held him then, to share in his heart’s bliss;
she stood far back and took another look,
and offered him another fairy kiss.
She looked, and yet her eyes were not quite dry;
his heart grew young, and yet he still could die.

His heart grew young, and yet he still could die,
his mortal form was still a frightening thought.
She loved him much, and couldn’t help but cry
because with danger his dear life was fraught.
The fairies all took counsel time to time,
and worried over his mortality,
he stood there, glowing, in his vibrant prime
but age and death would never let that be.
There was one way to give him lasting life,
too terrible to even think about;
the magic stripped from fairy wedded wife
would give him wings, while she would go without.
She lie awake against his human breast,
her fairy heart would never give her rest.

Her fairy heart would never give her rest,
she watched him walk, while flying, she danced air;
she searched old books for answers in her quest
to find a way to bring him wings to wear.
What life he’d find! What joys he’d know as king!
What beauties would his bright soul then unfold?
What good was life if his death it would bring?
What good was love if shortly dead and cold?
She loved him so; she longed to give him all,
but what of her? And how would she exist?
Her fairy heart considered such a fall,
and what it cost to love the man she kissed.
She wept, he’d never felt the gentle sky;
she longed for day that he could rise and fly.

She longed for day that he could rise and fly;
at last her heart was broken with his plight;
3,000 years she’d lived, but not known why;
but now she lived in glory of his light.
It wasn’t right that one so beautiful
should go unwinged, and have the shortest life
while she, a fairy with the eras full
should fly, uncaring, though she was his wife.
The rose would only work a single time;
she had to act to give him many years,
for why should he, a creature so sublime
feel rough, raw age, or know a dying fear?
She loved him true; and after final soar,
her fairy dust she stripped from very core.


Her fairy dust she stripped from very core;
her light went out, her wings both dried and snapped,
she pulled and pulled until there was no more,
then carried dust to where her husband napped.
She knelt beside him while her tears fell thick,
and rubbed the dust into his human skin,
she paused, head spinning, dizzy now and sick
but forced herself to rub him down again.
The dust sank in through muscle and his bone,
he woke while she was kneading his broad back;
he said, “Oh no! Oh no! This was your own!”
He looked at her, and saw her magic’s lack.
He felt his blood begin a heady roar;
he spread his wings and loved her then no more.

He spread his wings and loved her then no more;
her magic gone, she was a human queen;
the fairy king had loved her fairy core,
he’d loved her for her wings and fairy sheen,
and when she gave it all for love of him,
his love failed fast; without her flitting wings
and popping off to chase her varied whims,
her way was not a pleasure to the king.
She loved him well, as fairy and as girl,
her heart was his; they reined and ruled, and yet,
she’d once had wings; she’d hide behind her curls
and weep for flights that she could not forget.
She loved the king far more than light or flight
his glory then became her heart’s delight.

The fairy princess chose him for a king;
the man was fragile, born of clay and dust;
her fairy eyes took in the joy he’d bring;
her fairy heart knew better than to trust.
He sought through her the secret rose of youth
some blooms are balms and heal men from life’s pain;
she sought in him an echo of her truth;
she lay with him and all his griefs were slain.
He held her close; she placed rose in his breast,
his heart grew young, and yet he still could die;
her fairy heart would never give her rest
she longed for day that he could rise and fly;
her fairy dust she stripped from very core
he spread his wings and loved her then no more.

© Streambed. All rights reserved, 10 hours ago

C  
Heroic Crown of Sonnets: The Fairy

The fairy princess chose him for a king;
she found him walking through a crowded wood,
and followed him on iridescent wing;
her heart then singing fairy music good.
He was not young, but fairies see the soul
his mind was diamond, heart was rainbowed light;
she saw where others were a mass of coal
this man, this one, was brilliant beacon bright.
She flitted then, from branch to branch, concealed
and judged the man on way and secret thought;
she saw in him some wicked ways revealed,
but basked in beauty deep within him, caught.
She feared to love; though loving would be just;
the man was fragile, born of clay and dust.

The man was fragile, born of clay and dust,
a short-lived mortal, hardly just a breath.
Though heart toward love was wildly, deeply thrust
she knew her love would only end in death.
A fairy prince would make a better king;
a thousand years would pass like seven days,
but love a man? How sharp would be the sting
when breath was gone; how short man’s spirit stays!
She shuddered then, with thought of all the loss
and yet his soul was lovelier than theirs;
no fairy prince had half his rainbow’s gloss
no fairy prince had such a light to share.
No, it was he who must and should be king.
Her fairy eyes took in the joy he’d bring.

Her fairy eyes took in the joy he’d bring,
what sweet delight his reign would mean to her;
if he, a man, were made the fairy king,
so many hearts would sing with joy and stir;
the fairy babes would each bask in his light,
and grow so strong, and brighter for his thought;
and in the dances on the moony nights
the songs would glitter with the notes he taught;
yes, all the world of fairies would rejoice
if broad-souled man would take the fairy crown;
the woods were filled by glory of his voice;
in waves of music sweetly she would drown.
And yet though love rose thrilling and robust,
her fairy heart knew better than to trust.

Her fairy heart knew better than to trust;
she knew that men are fickle, and unkind,
and yet she felt despite it all she must
reveal herself and all her fairy mind.
She sang a harmony to all his song
and when he looked, she landed at his feet,
then made herself much taller, then and strong
’til eye to eye the two of them should meet.
He saw her wings, and knew just what she was;
remembering the stories as a child;
his old heart quailed, and he stepped back because
her beauty’s force was absolutely wild.
He took her hand, but didn’t tell the truth;
he sought through her the secret rose of youth.

He sought through her the secret rose of youth;
the legends told the fairies had this thing;
he didn’t tell the fairy all the truth
because he feared just what the truth would bring.
Yet he was old, his life was nearly spent
and if this rose was in his hands indeed,
the years would fall, and time’s hold would be rent,
while he bloomed freshly as a springing seed.
He wanted this; he hungered for his strength.
What joy to stand in passion’s door again!
The fairy heard his thoughts and all their length,
and knew just what to offer to him then.
“Come with me now, your troubles will be slain;
some blooms are balms and heal men from life’s pain.”

“Some blooms are balms and heal men from life’s pain,
and I have one that counteracts the years;
why should you age, when sweet one, you could reign,
and never feel another lonely tear?
Come with me now, and take my fairy hand,
and I will give you kingdoms, and my love.
My heart is yours to have and to command,
and you will find me docile as a dove.”
She drew up then; he yearned for her embrace;
her form was lush and promised much delight;
she saw herself reflected in his face
and subtle change in vibrant rainbow light.
He wanted her, as well as rose of youth;
she sought in him an echo of her truth.

She sought in him an echo of her truth;
a fairy’s soul is always changing form;
a fairy heart retains the joy of youth,
and adds to it a passion ever warm;
a fairy sees itself in all its works;
the flowers bloomed, the stars well-shined at night,
no fairy child ever hides or shirks
because their jobs are always a delight.
She loved this man; he loved her love so well,
that they were married, in a fairy ring;
and all the fairies rang the flower bells,
and human man was crowned the fairy king.
So king and queen began their magic reign;
she lay with him and all his griefs were slain.

She lay with him and all his griefs were slain,
such rapture there beneath her fairy wings!
Their jasper cave was lovely in the rain,
and they had joys that only love can bring.
He felt his age when stroking her smooth skin;
her strength was such he wished his own was more;
she saw these thoughts while in his arms again,
and kissed his cheek, then flew through jasper door.
Her heard her land in gravel late at night,
and in her arms she bore a glowing bloom;
it filled the cave with gentle crimson light,
and glorified the shining jasper room.
She came to him as if she’d lie and rest,
he held her close; she placed rose in his breast.

He held her close; she placed rose in his breast,
and as he slept, the years each fell away.
The rose’s scent perfumed the cave and blessed;
the rose’s bloom unworked cruel time’s decay.
When morning came; he rose a man of power,
his body twenty, or perhaps eighteen;
and how he blessed the magic of the flower
that left his skin so perfect, smooth and clean.
The fairy laughed to see the joy he took,
and held him then, to share in his heart’s bliss;
she stood far back and took another look,
and offered him another fairy kiss.
She looked, and yet her eyes were not quite dry;
his heart grew young, and yet he still could die.

His heart grew young, and yet he still could die,
his mortal form was still a frightening thought.
She loved him much, and couldn’t help but cry
because with danger his dear life was fraught.
The fairies all took counsel time to time,
and worried over his mortality,
he stood there, glowing, in his vibrant prime
but age and death would never let that be.
There was one way to give him lasting life,
too terrible to even think about;
the magic stripped from fairy wedded wife
would give him wings, while she would go without.
She lie awake against his human breast,
her fairy heart would never give her rest.

Her fairy heart would never give her rest,
she watched him walk, while flying, she danced air;
she searched old books for answers in her quest
to find a way to bring him wings to wear.
What life he’d find! What joys he’d know as king!
What beauties would his bright soul then unfold?
What good was life if his death it would bring?
What good was love if shortly dead and cold?
She loved him so; she longed to give him all,
but what of her? And how would she exist?
Her fairy heart considered such a fall,
and what it cost to love the man she kissed.
She wept, he’d never felt the gentle sky;
she longed for day that he could rise and fly.

She longed for day that he could rise and fly;
at last her heart was broken with his plight;
3,000 years she’d lived, but not known why;
but now she lived in glory of his light.
It wasn’t right that one so beautiful
should go unwinged, and have the shortest life
while she, a fairy with the eras full
should fly, uncaring, though she was his wife.
The rose would only work a single time;
she had to act to give him many years,
for why should he, a creature so sublime
feel rough, raw age, or know a dying fear?
She loved him true; and after final soar,
her fairy dust she stripped from very core.


Her fairy dust she stripped from very core;
her light went out, her wings both dried and snapped,
she pulled and pulled until there was no more,
then carried dust to where her husband napped.
She knelt beside him while her tears fell thick,
and rubbed the dust into his human skin,
she paused, head spinning, dizzy now and sick
but forced herself to rub him down again.
The dust sank in through muscle and his bone,
he woke while she was kneading his broad back;
he said, “Oh no! Oh no! This was your own!”
He looked at her, and saw her magic’s lack.
He felt his blood begin a heady roar;
he spread his wings and loved her then no more.

He spread his wings and loved her then no more;
her magic gone, she was a human queen;
the fairy king had loved her fairy core,
he’d loved her for her wings and fairy sheen,
and when she gave it all for love of him,
his love failed fast; without her flitting wings
and popping off to chase her varied whims,
her way was not a pleasure to the king.
She loved him well, as fairy and as girl,
her heart was his; they reined and ruled, and yet,
she’d once had wings; she’d hide behind her curls
and weep for flights that she could not forget.
She loved the king far more than light or flight
his glory then became her heart’s delight.

The fairy princess chose him for a king;
the man was fragile, born of clay and dust;
her fairy eyes took in the joy he’d bring;
her fairy heart knew better than to trust.
He sought through her the secret rose of youth
some blooms are balms and heal men from life’s pain;
she sought in him an echo of her truth;
she lay with him and all his griefs were slain.
He held her close; she placed rose in his breast,
his heart grew young, and yet he still could die;
her fairy heart would never give her rest
she longed for day that he could rise and fly;
her fairy dust she stripped from very core
he spread his wings and loved her then no more.

© Streambed.  Feb. 2014

This is the most beautiful such composition I have ever read.  _Larry Eberhart