RESERVE LOST

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?