A Dove On Distant Oaks
Jealousy is the rage of a man,
Whose passion, unyielding as the grave,
Burns like flames of blazing fire, whose fan
In is hand winnows success from death's plan.
Love goes awry for his fugitive slave - The king's enemy the rest of his days
Provoking anger and fear of threat
Behaving wisely in all his ways;
Escaping the throes, betimes, he prays.
How useless in full view to spread a net! Yet, bearing the olive branch he kept,
When once he drank from royal fountains,
Beyond flew arrows and two souls wept;
Still, twice in faith as his master slept,
He was as a partridge in the mountains - Now over the house mounted on wings,
As waylayers waylay their own souls
Beneath the tree by bows, swords and slings;
The servant shepherd is lord of kings,
And jealous bones are only heaps of coals.