In His heart, he wore her name
The fairest maiden there ever was.
Not a moment of time
Or an event of life
That she did not reign in his heart.
But somber their tale unraveled,
Last week when a vicious witch
Her did seek, to cast
A spell on her maidenhead.
All flowers sigh and whined,
And daylight ceased because
Of her whose beauty always gleam,
The scattered lights ito one moonlit beam,
Sedating waves on troubled seas.
Her, whose tender hair does run
Past her alpine neck, a rosy shine.
Safe blueish eyes, with a favorable smile,
Now sits beneath a dangling rock!
If the hourglass loses its sand,
Then our poor maiden will die!
Adumbral darkness permeated the night
For the last minute was soon to pass;
When swiftly a hardy swing
Swayed the rock aside from her.
My princess, the jubilant boy cried
Save thou art until time ends our span.