“Forsooth maid, ” spake he, <br />“Hear now my true words.” <br />This varlet of a bygone age, <br />This sage, with heathen tongue. <br />He blamed me, <br />Who deep within my misery <br />Did swear fidelity, <br />And love for my lord, my fair prince; <br />Over whom death has claimed <br />A victory. <br /> <br /> <br />I harken to him, <br />This voice of reason. <br />“Why mournest thou thy vanquished lord, <br />Whose sword has failed him not? <br />He died in war, <br />Yet still he evened up the score, <br />And dwells with my lord, Thor, <br />Within the halls of Valhalla; <br />Leaving for his young bride <br />An open door.” <br /> <br /> <br />“Please tempt me not, sire. <br />Be thou man or shade? <br />By thy garb I think the latter. <br />Shattered my heart may be, <br />And I know fear, <br />Yet were my lover still near <br />And his voice I could hear, <br />He would tell me to love again. <br />I bid you adieu and <br />Shed one last tear.”<br /><br />Irene C S ClarkHogg<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rational-2/
