Cassandra
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 -Sëer 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?!
'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.
-------REPEAT-------Though her parle of truth:"I can tomorrow - refell me if ye can!",Yet the kiss and breath - Apollo's bane -Sëer 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-------REPEAT-------