Alas, my love, you do me wrong
words of a king
demons of a man
seeking refuge into the heart of a woman
To cast me off discourteously
Anne
you truthful subject
yet only true to your desires
For I have loved you well and long
your grace enslaved a Tudor
changed a religion
delivered a bastard queen in waiting
Delighting in your company
and the clouds of history
rolled with the wind
a crowned head
into God’s lap
…And who but my lady greensleeves
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