A sight left dreaming about,
a kiss made a lover so fair.
O Love! What a sorrow it is,
to match such a pair.
What has this led to, an end?
Done with misery, came time to spend.
An end with sharp windows,
a smile that melt fine willows.
Ye are fairer than the fairest.
Thine heart thorbs at thou with sour beats.
’Tis not only I that fancies thee,
but all the tweenies who wish upon thou to meet.
Love is nothing but a cloak of illfortune,
that fell upon they.
They, who suffer with love,
a thing that murders.
Forth I dwell upon it,
leaving nothing but to embrace.
Shall thee and I be?
I pray, O I pray.