Tempt Me Not Kind Sir Lest I Fall …
Oh! Kind Sir, you flatter this naive maiden,
with thy words as sweet as the honeysuckle
that grows in yonder garden,
and with lush peaches to quench my thirst,
sweet juice of persimmons to soothe my lips
and nectar of grapes to caress my tongue,
I beseech thee, tempt me not kind Sir lest I fall.
Such sweet talk has ne’er come to
innocent ears of this maiden,
nor have made my heart flutter so fast.
Thou art fair to the eye,
thine lips plead and beg taste,
I blush and look away
lest you lead me astray.
Thou spake of delights and arts of love,
these mysteries I know naught of,
yet thou dost tempt me to learn,
thou will teach me all with delight
for thou art a masterful teacher
and gentle thou profess,
and I listen with affright.
Tempt me not kind Sir lest I fall.
Thou assure me of a trustworthy heart
and respectable alliance,
therefore I do trust you, kind Sir.
Yet, wilt thou protect mine virtue
when speaking of me to others?
And wilt thou keep me respectable
with promise of betrothment?
And keep me safe in marriage?
If this be so, then with you I will go.
A lovely morning awakens me, with sunshine and bird song,
the scent of lilacs drifts through the open shutters,
I stretch like a cat and a smile adorns my lips,
I call to my lover and call again,
he is not within, where could he be?
I will do my toilette then dress for our morning meal.
What lies here by my satchel? I have ne’er seen so many banknotes.
Perchance this is the wherewithal for my trosseau …
© 2019 Phyllis Doyle Burns