Oh, hear how she sighs
Under the pearly moonlight.
Look how she longs
For the promised starry night.
"Dear sire, thy love is forbidden
And yet mine heart aches,
Slowly corroding."
Aye, young heart
So easily swayed.
Lancelot passed by,
His shadow forever stayed.
'Tis what artists and poets
Sing verses for their muses.
Of great love and roses,
But still stay as a 'has been'.
Lancelot's Beloved
Author
melomarl
Burning Red
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