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.