The Dissemblers

" It was not you I came to please,
Only myself," flipped she;
" I like this spot of phantasies,
And thought you far from me."
But O, he was the secret spell
That led her to the lea!

" It was not she who shaped my ways,
Or works, or thoughts," he said.
" I scarcely marked her living days,
Or missed her much when dead."
But O, his joyance knew its knell
When daisies hid her head!
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.