She took him to a quiet place
so beautiful to see.
A place of fragrant flowers,
cool green grass
and fruitful tree.
“Now pledge your love to me,” she said
“And I will pledge to you.”
“I cannot pledge,” he answered
“for my love would prove untrue.”
“What jest is this?” she asked in rage,
her brow now stern and cross.
“I love another, fool. Now go! Begone and take the loss.”
The dagger point just broke his skin.
“The only loss is life, for when we loved
you pledged your heart and promised me to wife.”
“I care not if you love me now.
I will not be a fool, so you will be my husband
til your dotage when you drool.”
He fought her for his lady love,
fought long and hard and rough.
They both were bruised and bloody,
and the scarred skin would get tough.
But in the end, she held his heart
cupped in her broken hands,
and walked and walked and walked with it
to far and distant lands.
And somewhere in the Vail of Love
a heartless man does lie.
For legend says the Vail of Hearts
is where loves go to die.