Lorna

A Flirtatious Understanding with Death

I dreamed I was Titania

And you were Oberon

And in our green lace bower

We would stay both safe and warm

 

Your arms were strong and constant

Your eyes were clear and wise

It never dawned on me that this

Would change as time went by

 

That woodbine boughs would weaken

That nodding violets die

That musk roses and eglantine

Would wither on the vine

 

Our bower now is skeletal

The dew drops have grown dry

And death is reaching out to you

Before my very eyes

 

But more fool he if he believes

That this could ever be

For I will wheedle him until

He take both you and me