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

Ripost'd

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

Sicker quoth Cassandra

'Or was he an éri'd being

'Or was he weening alack nay mo

Her naysay' raught his heart

Her daffing was the grave of all hope

She beli'd 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

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 éri'd being

'Or was he weening alack nay mo

Her naysay' raught his heart

Her daffing was the grave of all hope