Deny me not companion,
I know you think me foolish,
To love with such abandon,
All other paths prove fruitless.
Go and leave a mystery,
To whom your heart doth belong,
Your beauty, your witchery,
For me it plays its swan-song.
Naught a hair of accidence,
What went right and then awry,
No devils trite impishness,
Your ruby lips would deny.
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