O with what heavy heart
And steaded blissfulness
Doth I burdened start
Dodge the dreaded crinkles.
My soul is aching,
Much to my chagrin
As she stands there alone,
Sullenly basking.
How I Wish to be freed
From this forsaken place
Allowed to wander by steed
At a vagabond's thorough pace.
Yearn for adventure
I shall
Through the bitter years that follow,
For I myself a lady
Stall not the humble morrow.