The Magician

Begone, cruel Mage! I spit disdain at thee!

By Belladonna’s lips thou couldst be kiss’d 

Or drown’d beneath the darkest, briny sea 

I’d careth not, and thou wouldst not be miss’d
 

 
O foolish Mage, I’ll weep not for thy death
 
But do not toy with Fate’s discerning knife
 
So sheathe thy sword, and let me feel thy breath
 
Upon my skin; remain with me in life
 

 
If thou wert here, o Mage, I’d say this not
 
I fear thy nimble hands will cause my fall
 
Thy siren song still plagues my distant thought
 
And umber eyes ensnare, enchant; enthrall
 

 
 
Thou knowest not, and thou shalt never see
 
Dear Mage, I fell; mine heart belongs to thee