THE LION AND THE DOVE
Whither goest thou, my love,
Who like an angel soars above
The other ladies - nay, a dove
That bringeth peace. My heart doth move.
Her eyes are brown, exceeding fair -
Two gems that warm the midnight air,
So luminous their glow doth snare
The once proud lion in his lair.
Her voice is music from the spheres;
The lion lifts his head and hears
Its melody of golden tears.
He stands up straight and pricks his ears.
Her sweetly sorrowed face doth shine
As moonbeams glimmer, quite divine -
Radiance indeed sublime.
The lion (strange) begins to whine
And paws the earth in maddened grief.
A frenzy quite beyond belief
Builds up inside – it craves relief
From her whose plaint was deep yet brief.
Thou hast gone away, my love,
And I know not how best to move
Thy heart, oft injured – yet I’ll prove
My gentleness can tame a dove.
copyright 2004 Peter Sherman All rights reserved.
