Troubadour's Song

The sun arises east
And then fades to the west
Yea, it seems that your beauty
Is what puts it to a rest
But as the moon takes its place
None could dare take yours
For your fairness and your grace,
Like the hawk and eagle, soar
For your shimmering angel eyes
Lay a trap for each man's stare
For I myself must have been caught,
Caught in this wonderful snare
And each strand of shining silk hair
Laid atop your gentle head
Is worth twelve-fold its weight in gold
Even after it is dead
But greatest of all is your crystal heart
So pure and bright and true
But yet as crystal splits to shards
I'd ne'er let such happen to you.