Beauty’s daughter, who did shine,
fate and fortune made her mine.
But when years of youth were gleaming,
she trod softly from my dreaming.
Like the dew on leafy lawn,
she dissolved, one day, at dawn.
When the midnight moon was waking,
beauty’s daughter, (born for breaking,)
tore in two the poet’s heart,
though she’d sworn she’d not depart.
She was cursed to be capricious:
offspring of two vipers, vicious.
By her dad was forced to fight
love (she’d felt) with all her might.
For he hoped the tide was turning,
and love’s fire would not keep burning.
Beauty’s daughter to the last
laid the blame on curse they’d cast.
All that spite her folks had spoken
broke the boy whose heart she’d broken.