A Lover's Query I cannot love thee any more , nor less hast thou not thrilled to my nightly embrace cried about sins I faithfully confess in shock at my previous sinner's race? Nay, fair lady think me not a high fool a master of deceit that sells my charm tormentor in words so very cruel ruffian that scurries about to harm! My lady, looks at me the cock that crows that preens in the morning to please the Sun strutting, pleasing your eyes as our love grows do you speak soft and I come on a run? Do we not share this secret lover's bond? Secret nights of which you are very fond? Robert J. Lindley 08-25-2014