Glass Necklace

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It was only tortoiseshell glass,


But it captured someone's eye,


And thus the story told came to pass.


I'll tell it you:  Curiosity, I cannot deny.


*                                              *                                             *


The necklace came in three strands,


Nestling round Her Ladyship's throat.


He'd have played a thousand sarabands--


If only he could breach that impossible moat!


*                                              *                                           *


It glimmered and winked, taunting our hero.


The creamy skin beneath promised heaven


Provided one was Marc Antony, not Nero:


Thus in art, with temptation we leaven.


*                                             *                                           *


The damned thing haunted his dreams,


Made him sweat, cast his eyes into shadow,


And so he began falling apart at the seams


Quick as blinking.  O pity those who loved him so!


*                                           *                                           *


His health, already fragile, failed.


The doctors, silent, looking quite grim.


Whenever he heard her name he paled


Which (considering) was quite a feat for him.


*                                          *                                         *


And the amber honey danced yet before his fevered gaze,


Causing him to cry out in fear


And longing.  All, all was a blurry haze:


The women thought his death was near.


*                                         *                                        *


Concerned, Her Ladyship went to see the patient.


She was alarmed by his gray pallor;


Having seen of suffering her quotient,


She felt discretion to be better than valor.


*                                         *                                      *


He was revived, pronounced a miracle,


A bare few noticing the glitter in his eye,


But they were silent, as though touched by an icicle 


Of fear.  Some of them made ready to fly.


*                                        *                                       *


They found him covered in blood,


The beads from the glass necklace


In his clutching hands.  The room was caked with mud


As they led him away in a brace.


*                                     *                                        *


Thus concludes my tale.


What! you shrink?


Tut!


You wanted entertainment.

Created: Mar 20, 2014

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