erotic poem

take my bracelets
the darkness steals the forms of all the queens
night was black and drear
let us pity those who are better off than we are
one sweetly solemn thought
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
for truth, for love
gone before us
see, they return
have you seen walking through the village
long ago, in the young moonlight
day is done
i had over-prepared the event