Deprive me not, my charming prince
from dancing with the count.
I can’t remain a trophy toy of yours
in this ballroom crowd.
Deprive me not a moment’s glance
at him whose heart adores me —
the glass shoe that was returned to me
wounded my feet as I pranced.
So I must choose the count at once
and settle the matter in my head,
and give my heart an upper hand,
like destiny, fate and circumstance.
April 5, 2010
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Of course the question that popped into my mind was…is the count just security? and so one yields to the power of logic rather than a course of love? Ah…just a random series of questions.
… or perhaps, is the count the
reality and the prince,
the dream?
Thanks for bringing in a new
dimension to the poem
by asking a question
of relevance.
Poetry begins in delight and
ends in wisdom.
– Robert Frost