Twilight Poem Untitled
Oh wondrous as the twilight's dusk
His hands, still neither coarse nor brusque
Caress his lover's furrowed brow
And speak, with honeyed prose, a vow:
"My Isobel, with beating heart so sweet,
We find our nuptials at long last, complete."
Said Isobel, a child of Vesta:
" And how long must I be sequestered?
With virtuous devotion, long abiding
Have I waited for this union's guiding.
Now thine ring is on my finger
How much longer shall we linger?"
Sir Edward spoke, with irritation:
"Speak no more of our consummation.
Thou bargains with her own death giver
On your request, I shall deliver."
Sweet Isobel's eclipsed compliance
Thus coronated her alliance.
With breaking dawn and glistening dew
Awakens she, refreshed anew.
"O foolish child," his voice strained not,
"Look what your arrogance hath wrought."
And so, the bruised and broken lamb, lain bare
Was safe within her lion's snare.
Camille L. (USA)