Mistressmlf
Posts: 2
Joined: 1/24/2005
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Her beauty filled him with divine despair,
Around his heart she tied a knot of her hair,
Her dark hair would drag him to his doom,
Her looks were splendid daggers in the gloom.
Of his sick soul, his heart's invaded tower,
Stabbing, yet thus never slaying, every hour,
He worshipped his Mistress Morgana Le Fay,
For many a time in that room he lay.
His passion now despair, with scorn of love,
His love, that dragged himself before her feet,
Dog-like, to whom even a blow were sweet.
And so she led the way, her torch's fire,
Sprawling with spidery shadows at each stride,
The cob-webbed walls of scowling arches wide.
So she stood pondering with her slave, her lips,
Breathless, and tight as were her finger-tips.
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