I offer up
an honest, heartfelt plea
for you to
understand, for you to see
that those
to truly blame, of course, are Zeus
and his
nine daughters – fickle offspring, whose
entreaties
and delights have driven me
into the
sweet embrace of poetry.
And every
poet has his favourite muse:
“Erato! You
bewitch me with your charms;
you tempt
me, and then bind me with a spell
which slowly,
surely, wraps me in your arms.
Erato! You
have taught your pupil well.”
My mistress
whispers that we should be wed–
those whispered
words that make a marriage bed.
RJT
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