The Magician
Begone, cruel Mage! I spit disdain at thee!
By Belladonna’s lips thou couldst be kiss’d
Or drown’d beneath the darkest, briny sea
I’d careth not, and thou wouldst not be miss’d
O foolish Mage, I’ll weep not for thy death
But do not toy with Fate’s discerning knife
So sheathe thy sword, and let me feel thy breath
Upon my skin; remain with me in life
If thou wert here, o Mage, I’d say this not
I fear thy nimble hands will cause my fall
Thy siren song still plagues my distant thought
And umber eyes ensnare, enchant; enthrall
Thou knowest not, and thou shalt never see
Dear Mage, I fell; mine heart belongs to thee