Chapter 13 No.13

Love, Pride and Forgetfulness

Ere yet my heart was sweet Love's tomb,

Love laboured honey busily.

I was the hive and Love the bee,

My heart the honey-comb.

One very dark and chilly night

Pride came beneath and held a light.

The cruel vapours went through all,

Sweet Love was withered in his cell;

Pride took Love's sweets,

            
            

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