Her Heart A Flower, Wondrous Its Plumes
Her heart a flower, wondrous its plumes
my lust an ancient fire.
Her sweet voice, relief from many dooms,
for such love, I did conspire.
Through long summer and sky's heated reign
my ardor burned all the more.
So much so, my honor I did stain
walking through that darkest door.
Treasure came, O' at what evil...
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