This is a poem that I found in a parking lot very tattered and torn. I had
to fill in many parts of it with my own words because I could not read them
very well. I found it soon after I had finished reading The Count of Monte
Cristo and was trying to make it into a poem about that book. So, although
it is not really about that book, it is inspired by it and a parking lot.
Here is the result:
Dost thou love me?
Dost thou truly love me?
Were I to die,
Were I to pass away and cease to draw breath,
Wouldst thou mourn my loss because thou missed me?
Or merely because I no longer could
Slave for thee and prepare for thee they meals?
O let it be because thou missed me,
For I love thee.
I truly love thee.
Dost thou love me?
Dost thou truly love me?
If at this moment thou couldst choose.
Choose between me and another woman,
Who would be thy choice?
Would it be me because thou loved me?
Or her because of her beauty?
O that it would be me because thou loved me.
For I love thee.
I truly love thee.
Dost thou love me?
Dost thou truly love me?
Why then dost thou lay thy hand on my flesh,
Which at our first meeting you thought so fair?
Why dost thou torment me with the anger?
It cannot be that thou loved me,
Rather I would believe it be because I am the object of thy hatred.
O that thou wouldst stop lying and saying that thou love me.
For I no longer love thee.
I no longer truly love thee.
By "The Lady Shieldmaiden" and Anonymous
Dost thou love me?
Dost thou truly love me?
Were I to die,
Were I to pass away and cease to draw breath,
Wouldst thou mourn my loss because thou missed me?
Or merely because I no longer could
Slave for thee and prepare for thee they meals?
O let it be because thou missed me,
For I love thee.
I truly love thee.
Dost thou love me?
Dost thou truly love me?
If at this moment thou couldst choose.
Choose between me and another woman,
Who would be thy choice?
Would it be me because thou loved me?
Or her because of her beauty?
O that it would be me because thou loved me.
For I love thee.
I truly love thee.
Dost thou love me?
Dost thou truly love me?
Why then dost thou lay thy hand on my flesh,
Which at our first meeting you thought so fair?
Why dost thou torment me with the anger?
It cannot be that thou loved me,
Rather I would believe it be because I am the object of thy hatred.
O that thou wouldst stop lying and saying that thou love me.
For I no longer love thee.
I no longer truly love thee.
By "The Lady Shieldmaiden" and Anonymous
