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To love like Oberon
His love was true but cold and dark as had it
Been slumbering in the cradle of the moonâ€™s hidden sneer.
The once plump and smiling bloom he plucked in courting,
And wove throughout her wedding bower,
Now gleamed like serpentsâ€™ fangs, their honey perfumed sap
Glittering as it formed pearls of bright venom.
His utterance of affection a trap, a snare, laced with thorns,
And jagged nettles that rolled from his silver tongue to
Cut and sting like razors, twisting, biting, angry.
Tainted was his love and happiness nothing but a dream.
Tainted was his love, but truer love had neâ€™er been.
(Jasmin McAllisterÂ© 2002)
Unexpectedly, my final design reminded me more of flowering jasmine (jasmine with an 'e' not as in my actual name that has no 'e') that flourishes on our midsummer nights.