Lorelei

Ferie dearest, was it loe soothfast or a façade;A serenade siren'd to lure - Zounds! not to court me?A menad, yet the sweetest colleen -Certes didst thou me unveil meekly life pristine.Lorelei,A poet of tragedies, scribe I lauds to Death,Yet who the hell was I to dare?Lorelei,Canst thou not see thou to me needful art?Canst thou not see the loss of loe painful is?Dedally didst thou perform the tragic pasquinade,For all years a damndest and driegh'd accolade -Caus'd for all eyes mazed to behold a mêlee;In the midst did I swainly cast thee my bouquet:The one and sole faggot that feedeth the fire,Bellow'd bidingly by my heart's quailing quire.Lorelei,A poet of tragedies, scribe I lauds to Death,Yet who the hell was I to dare?Lorelei,Canst thou not see thou to me needful art?Canst thou not see the loss of loe painful is?Perchance author I thee this ikon'd apologue for aught,Doth the wecht burthen thee?, then bethink thine afterthought:'Tween Aether and 'Nether art thou the peerless phoenix -Prithee, darlingmost! - court me rather than the peevish prolix.