"chaunted" poems
“Doubt thou the stars are fire,
Doubt that the sun doth move,
Doubt truth to be a liar,
But never doubt I love,"
He wrote.
"Never doubt," she whispered
As her foot hovered over the fallen tree.
Tentative and cautious she treads,
As if to make up for her blind trust
She had in his words.
"Never doubt."
Words, words, words, words.
"Never doubt," she choked
While her eyes hungrily stared at the water below.
To die, to sleep.
To drown, to float.
"Never doubt."
"I love I love I love I love," she sings
Sobbing.
She is here.
She is standing on the fallen tree over the water,
Flowers in hand,
Melodies in mind,
Her choice in her throat.
"Not to be."
She is there.
Her self
Fell in the weeping brooke,
her cloathes spread wide,
And Mermaid-like, a while they bore her up,
Which time she chaunted
snatches of old tunes,
As one incapable of her own distress,
Or like a creature Natiue, and indued
Unto that Element but long it could not be,
Till that her garments,
heavy with her drink,
Pulled the poor wretch from her melodious lay,
To muddy death.
Now tell me, my dear prince,
Would you call that "love?"
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 11:33 PM UTC