Lady’s Mantle.

The Lady Rose blushes

at her suitors, fluttering fans that

pale such features.

Upon her mantle,

tears she catches

rolling from her many matches

wrought by Lady’s eye.

And oh that eye,

that I might stare

at these—such emeralds sparkling there.

And here upon her face, I see—

adorned in star-gold jewelry.

Yet, those eyes weren’t meant for me.

No suitor will she ever see

and cursed am I to always be,

onlooker to my Lady’s piety.

Locked away,

in that eye

that always has regarded me

from behind her fans that flutter on—

and flush and flutter me

be gone!