To Lost and Ancient Gardens Xanthochroid

My love is petals and dew
The Erthe, the wilderness too
For a fonder man, there is none
Who admires her like the Sun
Shining down so she may glow…

But a maid stood alone
In the trees, overgrown
And she pondered the plight
Of the rose

She drank the dew from the rose
I drank the dew from the rose
I envy the one that she chose
His stare and longing did grow

Then she offered me a sip
But I dare not touch my lip
Where the serpent’s tongue hath coiled

For a man she desires
And indeed one she would have
If I should but meet
Her gaze

A man like you I’ve never known
Her words a womanly moan
So lonely he must remain alone
Her dress so perfectly sewn