The Mistress

She could not hold his shadow,
And, angry, became worse;
She bought herself a fairy tale,
Spent from another's purse.

To thieve a woman's fortune
Is no one's gain, it seems,
For guilt inspires arrows, aimed
To pierce through farfetched dreams.

Renege on tempting contract,
The best in her had tried,
But seized by greed's embrace, she knew
At once, her hands were tied.

A folly, born in dreaming,
That plagues her, now awake,
And morning brings the mourning
Of three hearts, condemned to break.

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