You did not listen, helpless soul, when I said,
“Look out, or you’ll be snagged,
You childish thing, if you dance near her hand!”
Didn’t I caution you?
And now the snare is sprung.
To struggle is wholly hopeless.
Love has bound your tapping feet,
Kept you from twirling, twisting, without flow, to and fro,
Chained your ankle prettily, a decorated trinket,
To be displayed as a static trophy.