I am the last duchess portrayed in colour and mortar Flirtatious I was and thus the gardens rest now my being. My being Rather mauled guarded still by an overhead warning to The outer lands that surround this palace of corrupted souls. Souls that Dance and feast upon nights such as now; Oblivious to Reality and the threats that lie within rather than outside as I lay lost And unheard to the outside world. Wonder I do if âTwas The dainty hands of Fra Pandolf; Never a gentler soul Though deceitful he may not seem he is more than the cover of manuscript May show. Tis this same scroll though encrypted with ancient Texts of lost love that tells trued stories of misconception in relation to The floral talents of the master sculptor who, though Faulted, has the innocent heart that only future beings will come to accept. For Tis only this beating wonder though now so blackened With the plague of dark deceit and dismal lies that embraces the heart of thee And absorbs the greatest of woes. Try I did but shadowed I was by the reputable artist that was master Pandolf who though so shy Entered into the family name; his christened title inscribed So deeply into the now dirt cast flag that before was written âbout by the greatest Of laureates. These same laureates now bathe in the Scandalous material so readily provided by a well seduced feminine figure Who gave away money and a roof for the so seemed Loving arms of inspiration. I ask now for the forgiveness of thy master: The same titled being as that who scribed his Shadow-cast name into my muscular ***** that now no longer pulsates in the Same rhythmic tempo as the now lost lover I used to so easily trust, under the false belief of a returned favour I was so Quickly promised. Maybe Twas the sight Of thee that provoked this audacious incident that now hangs over the same Man that I became ignorant towards. Though An arrogant human, tis him who I vowed my heart to; the same ***** that Tis now eaten away by the feeders that have Been placed inside this case I lie in. Many queries I have but say I cannot as These dreaded feeders have taken away that Same privilege that I once had. Why tis me that has to hold this great weighted Burden? Why tis me that fell yet again For the seductive methods of man? Answers will not be a given though as my pleas Are not heard; I am the unknown backyard mistake That has now destroyed the class a family such as my married one had worked So hard to produce with intention to keep. Tis this class that has now crashed to the same ground in which I writhe and though Faulted, I want justice served upon that monster Whose handsome looks created such a stir in my mental crevasse I forgot the importance of appreciation: And swapped all I had for the pleasures of pretentious love, whose creation has now Caused the greatest of upsets not only for myself, But for all that are joyed by the presence of the grand towers that overlook the city In which I used to strut and sleep in: The same city which is still plagued by the rodent that tis Fra Pandolf.
Please read Robert Brownings 'My Last Duchess' for the context behind this poem.