A Lover’s Lament
Though many a torch-song I would sing
To move her heart so cruel,
No faint’st relief it e’er would bring
No clue her love to fuel.
And all my pleas that dame defought,
Colt down my warm affection.
’Til I, at last, myself denought
Her glamorous attraction.
Yet, now she would pay court to me
Shew marks of heart’s desire;
But ah, too late arrove her plea,
To ash had burnt the fire.
My dame exaggerote the game
That’s meant to trigger yearning.
Too cold a wind extunct the flame,
Gave it no chance of burning.