A spear

It's lucky Shakespeare never knew
a lovely woman quite like you,
since even he, the Avon Bard,
might well have found the task too hard
of mining with his magic pen
the spell you cast on mortal men,
and failing thus, he might have lost
the will to write, which could have cost
the world his Hamlet or his Lear.
I'm glad he didn't know you, dear.

not you, my pet,
who gave him shelter from the storm
but never truly kept him warm,
or else the answer might have blown
not in the wind, but you alone,
and he'd have made a duller rhyme,
"You did not waste my precious time,"
and all my songs would burst with cheer.
I'm glad he didn't know you, dear.

It's lucky that the road Frost took
did not afford him one good look
at you, or he'd have quit his pen
and joined the ranks of rhymeless men
who all their lives would never know
the urge to lie down in the snow
.


Oh no! I truly think it's best
that you met me, and not the rest,
since I have nothing on my plate
your beauty would adulterate,
and if it's me, my love, you choose,
the world has nothing much to lose.