WORDS FOR AN OLD AIR by Sara Teasdale
Your heart is bound tightly, let
Beauty beware;
It is not hers to set
Free from the snare.
Tell her a bleeding hand
Bound it and tied it;
Tell her the knot will stand
Though she deride it.
?
One who withheld so long
All that you yearned to take,
Has made a snare too strong
For Beauty’s self to break.
