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Click hereDark of night. The sound of wind in trees
Roars like my heart within my chest
Roars with love, with darkness blessed
I wait for you to come to me.
I wait for you by love possessed
You, the object of my desire
To lay yourself upon my fire
Submission entire and self-confessed
You do not speak, dare not inquire
I raise the whip so you can see
That what I prepare to give to thee
Is nothing less than love requires
My Lady in chains, this much is real
Love first hurts so that love might heal
Mixing the formal "you" with the familiar "thee" is somewhat disconcerting. It's like you can't decide how you really feel about her.
Not a single comment in all these years? Unfathomable. What a little jewel, faithful to form and subject in taut, spare lines that leave nothing out. Interesting rhyme scheme, too; Spenser-ish with a twist.