Indulgent

I hear her say: he sets me hoops to jump,
Indulging her, I watch to see her rise;
The flourish of her skirts makes grown men weep,
And I can see how low their shoulders slump,
As they lament when they, at last, surmise
That I am yours and you are mine to keep;
Mournfully they turn, as they're dismissed
For having failed to take required risks:
They are the faint of heart whose faint hearts sleep,
They were too slow to sew, so now I'll reap.