He brings me to his bower bare
to show me that there's nothing there
that I could ever hold.
What cruel master leads me so,
giving to and taking fro,
pushing into the cold?
'tis Cupid--that mischievous boy
hath made many a clever ploy,
pulling all towards.
Then, when all are certain of the catch,
reaches in--a vicious snatch
has stolen our rewards!
Alone we cry, we weep, we pine
for that lover so divine--
have them we must!
Little do we know, so filled with rue,
that our beloved pineth too
for love from even us.
So from afar, two lovers gaze
at the other, waiting for praise
which won't come without a nudge.
Neither moves--rejection's fear
is looming far too close and near--
in love they will not budge.
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