Theatre Of Tragedy - Cassandra
He Gave To Her, Yet Tenfold Claim'd In Return -
She Hath No Life But The One He For Her Wrought;
Proffer'd To Her His Wauking Heart - She Turn'd It Down,
Ripostéd With A Tell-tale Lore Of Lies And Scorn.
Prophetess Or Fond?,
Tho' Her Parle Of Truth:
«i Ken To-morrow - Refell Me If Ye Can!»,
Yet The Kiss And Breath - Apollo's Bane -
Sëer Of The Future, Not Of Twain,
«sicker!», Quoth Cassandra.
Still, Is She Lief And Quaint In His Eyne, A Sight Divine? -
A Mistress Fuell´d By His Prest Haughtiness -
If He Did Grant, Wherefore Then Did He Not Foresee,
Belike Egal As It To Him Might Be?!
Prophetess Or Fond?,
Tho' Her Parle Of Truth:
«i Ken To-morrow - Refell Me If Ye Can!»,
Yet The Kiss And Breath - Apollo's Bane -
Sëer Of The Future, Not Of Twain,
«sicker!», Quoth Cassandra.
'or Was He An æriéd Being,
'or Was He Weening - Alack Nay Mo;
Her Naysay' Raught His Heart,
Her Daffing Was The Grave Of All Hope -
She Beliéd Her Own Words,
He Thought Her Life, Save Moreo'er Scourge,
She Held Him August, Yet Wee;
He Left Her Ne'er Without His Heart
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