There may be something that depends on thee-
you hi-sprung holly which is dainty in the forest,
resting in your lawless ways a cudgel of berries.
Tease then, deny me, mammal inappropriate for your stock,
your bounty is more for the nimble of hock,
who have a stomach stranger to mine,
who needs't not pay me any mind.

Force here will do no good, no,
which confuses me by force of reason,
misleads me through whorls of rhyme.

I fell in love once,
it was confusing.
Perhaps to un-know!
Oh, how my names elude me.