ICS ( / England)

** Rational

“Forsooth maid, ” spake he,
“Hear now my true words.”
This varlet of a bygone age,
This sage, with heathen tongue.
He blamed me,
Who deep within my misery
Did swear fidelity,
And love for my lord, my fair prince;
Over whom death has claimed
A victory.

I harken to him,
This voice of reason.
“Why mournest thou thy vanquished lord,
Whose sword has failed him not?
He died in war,
Yet still he evened up the score,
And dwells with my lord, Thor,
Within the halls of Valhalla;
Leaving for his young bride
An open door.”

“Please tempt me not, sire.
Be thou man or shade?
By thy garb I think the latter.
Shattered my heart may be,
And I know fear,
Yet were my lover still near
And his voice I could hear,
He would tell me to love again.
I bid you adieu and
Shed one last tear.”

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