Retrieve the passion thou shared. Good sir indeed. Pray show thyself as keen in action. Ridicule the lady not. The lady of seasons bears a perpetual gift. Yours for eternity. An honest emerald, captured from a den of thieves. For the woman sighs. Crying quietly unto her handkerchief, Created of distressed lace. The lady carries but a precious cargo. A freight ne'er to become forgot. Madame is a beauty, a butterfly of carbon made. Her character build of moorland stone. She weeps daily for you. Before your child be born. But her lord is sadly gone. (C) LIVVI