*S h e i s D r o w n e d*

O my prince, would that you'd drink of my heart as you would
Of a poisoned cup or a traitor's blood.
Would that you'd reach out your strong arms to me
Instead of the branches of some willow tree;

Mistrustful I am, of their loyalty.

And who were you really, this man that I've spurned,
His doublet unbraced and his letters returned?
His brain got the fever, but my heart was burned--

No fire ever felt so hot as when he snarled, " I l o v e d y o u n o t . "

And now I am alone...

Good night, sweet prince, I'm going away
Would that I could see your face when they say
"O, she is dead and gone, my lord,
She is dead and gone."