in the land of yore
Toward his glance she tossed a strand
Of her golden hair -
Unbeknownst to him he caught
Her gossamer snare.
The single strand around his heart
Strung as a golden chain;
Tangled in her satin web
Struggle he may in vain.
But why travail, beguiled lad -
Why resist the spell?
When in her heart there you will find
Love's eternal well.
So bare your soul and dive within
Freely there to rove;
No greater wonder in the world
Than a woman's love.
How brief is every port of fate,
How fleeting every chance -
Lives are spun from threads of mist;
Born from a random glance.