First Love - Part 53

" Love's a garment only meant
For the minstrel and romancer. "
This is all that she has sent
To my pleadings as an answer.

How the words come back again,
Still as careless, still as bitter —
Like a harsh and mocking strain
Played upon a tinkling zither.

Like a prisoner chained alone,
Dullness binds me, wrist and ankle —
All the evil thoughts are gone
But the words remain and rankle.

" Love's a garment (so it went)
For the minstrel and romancer — "
Aye — the robe was never meant
For the nightshift of a dancer.
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