Classic Poem

“And what is this you offer me?” quoth Love.
A girdle of Red Gold.
And “Gold!” sneered Love in scorn
(Eyes raining lightnings down)
“Gold!
Am I so tinsel-worn
As to be bought and sold
Like a woman of the town?”

“But why the Ring?” he queried, wondering.
To bind you in the Law.
“Bind me!” cried Love, full loud
(A flame of wrath his hair)
“Law!
Am I so feeble-bowed,
That you must burn me raw
With chains to keep me there?”

“Twixt man and maid?” asked Love, incredulous.
Aye,—for mayhap you die.
“Die, I!” … Love spurned the thing
(Flushing imperially)
“Die!”
“Nay … these that use a Ring
To link them in a lie
Surely deserve not me!”