Cassandra

He gave to her, yet tenfold claim'd in return -She hath no life but the one he for her wrought;Proffer'd to her his wauking heart - she turn'd it down,Riposted with a tell-tale lore of lies and scorn.Prophetess or fond?,Tho' her parle of truth:"I ken to-morrow - refell me if ye can!",Yet the kiss and breath - Apollo's bane -Sëer of the future, not of twain,"Sicker!", quoth Cassandra.Still, is she lief and quaint in his eyne, a sight divine? -A mistress fuell'd by his prest haughtiness -If he did grant, wherefore then did he not foresee,Belike egal as it to him might be?!Prophetess or fond?,Tho' her parle of truth:"I ken to-morrow - refell me if ye can!",Yet the kiss and breath - Apollo's bane -Sëer of the future, not of twain,"Sicker!", quoth Cassandra.'Or was he an eried being,'Or was he weening - alack nay mo;Her naysay' raught his heart,Her daffing was the grave of all hope -She belied her own words,He thought her life, save moreo'er scourge,She held him august, yet wee;He left her ne'er without his heart.