Oh lady divine, and nearest my heart,
My heart which sits inside my breast- O hell!
Breast already? I am a fool. Restart,
Mine eloquence o'ershot my tongue as well,
Same tongue with which I long to praise you fair,
My tongue and mouth will give you freely gifts-
Damned again! In speaking, so I meant, I err,
For you I speak in lovers hieroglyphs.
From love-struck Egypt, I bring this to you.
Land of magic and mystery, lovers,
Antony and Cleopatra, she who,
Died from her royal asp 'neath her covers.
That's asp, the snake, I said, I don't mean mine,
That's a pet my love, why you look on so?
Cleopatra's snake, say, took love divine,
When stung he hard and laid her low.
O- stung by venom! And not stung in her,
I mean nothing by this! But stung upon,
For her cares heavy on her, though pure,
Cares! Not Anthony, though he a care one.
His death, they say, was not much hers behind,
Behind, before, I speak in time, my dear,
Pay not subtle connotations any mind.
They exist to defile you once clear.
But I have spent much in your house, at home,
The grip and speed increase of country needs,
I hold thy name in my breast's solemn dome,
Church-dome, nunnery like, I hope my seeds,
That's words, that the seeds of my words take root,
When I am gone (as I go, I go now)
Ay me, this courting shall prove t'have no boot,
I fear I've belied my mind's heart on thou.
