1221 – 1230: Eventide Sigh

She
Bless you! you are not eventide 1221
But killing dart to wedded bride!
Hail sad eventide dim and grim 1222
Has your mate like mine, cruel whim!
Wet eve came pale and trembling then 1223
Now it makes bold with growing pain.
Lover away, comes eventide 1224
Like slayer to field of homicide.
What good have I done to morning 1225
And what evil to this evening?
Evening pangs I have not known 1226
When my lord nev’r left me alone.
Budding at dawn burgeoning all day 1227
This disease blooms in evening gay.
A deadly arm, this shepherd’s flute 1228
Hails flaming eve and slays my heart.
Deluding eve if it prolongs 1229
The whole town will suffer love-pangs.
Thinking of him whose quest is wealth 1230
My life outlives the twilight stealth.

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