The Selfish Heart
She shivers in the palace, cold.
And still she waits for me.
She's been alone for days on end.
And still she yearns to see,
None other than my form—all told,
she's longing to be free.
And no man's touch can save her.
But my own, how can it be?
O my darling, o my flower.
O my sunshine, o my rain.
O my solitary soulmate,
who delivers me from pain!
You alone are worthy,
of my dreams, is it not plain?
You wish upon a star,
not for some other gain,
Not for riches or for power,
not for glory or great fame,
not for passion or adventure,
or comfort, soft to claim.
No, your goal is much more stark,
O, my pride! Am I to blame?
You desire me, just me!
And I revel in your aim.
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