The Bend of the Bow

Stood I in silence warily,

Myself to be by self alone.

Drew I the arrow verily,

The sun behind my back it shone.

No fear into my mind should seep,

That I may see the bow might bend.

My courage I must honestly keep,

That black shaft I might send.

My great head I see in sight,

The string I pull; I bend the bow.

How I wish to see the arrow’s flight,

Whe’er I shall live I do not know.

Glorious cam and cable bold,

I adore none other such as this,

Seem they to be made of gold.

My arrow they do longingly kiss.

Cam is turned, so gently rolled

The bow does softly, lovely bend.

Delicate be as clay to mold,

For my black arrow forth to send.

Grass be green at my parted feet,

With love I do longingly release.

Love like this you cannot meet.

My heart is now at blissful peace.

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