Passion's axe shall break the door
Of reserve bolted with my honour.
The thing called lust is a heartless power
It sways my mind at midnight hour.
How to hide this lust which shows
Itself while I sneeze unawares!
I was proud of my sex-reserve
Lo lust betrays what 1 preserve.
Dignity seeks not a deserter
But Love-sick is its innovator.
O Grief, my deserter you seek
Of your caprice what shall I speak.
When lover's love does what it desires
We forget all shame unawares.
The cheater of many wily arts
His tempting Words break through women's hear
In huff I went and felt at ease
Heart to heart in sweet embrace.
To feign dislike is it not rare
For mates who melt like fat in fire?
RESERVE LOST
