Lorelei
Ferie dearest, was it loe soothfast or a façade;A serenade siren'd to lure - Zounds! not to court me?A menad, yet the sweetest colleen -Certes didst thou me unveil meekly life pristine.
Lorelei,A poet of tragedies,scribe I lauds to Death,Yet who the hell was I to dare?Lorelei,Canst thou not see thou to me needful art?Canst thou not see the loss of loe painful is?
Dedally didst thou perform the tragic pasquinade,For all years a damndest and driegh'd accolade -Caus'd for all eyes mazed to behold a mêlee;In the midst did I swainly cast thee my bouquet:The one and sole faggot that feedeth the fire,Bellow'd bidingly by my heart's quailing quire.
Lorelei,A poet of tragedies, scribe I lauds to Death,Yet who the hell was I to dare?Lorelei,Canst thou not see thou to me needful art?Canst thou not see the loss of loe painful is?
Perchance author I theethis ikon'd apologue for aught,Doth the wecht burthen thee?then bethink thine afterthought:'Tween Aether and 'Netherart thou the peerless phoenix -Prithee, darlingmost! -court me rather than the peevish prolix.