O Mistress Mine Poem by Roy Ballard

I called my muse to book;
she would not stay
but stamped a pretty foot
and went away.

O mistress mine you sing
then disappear
and all my envy bring
to some new ear.

You leave an empty vault,
a desert dry,
an ocean sick with salt,
a bare goodbye.

Where lovers meet, she knows,
is journey's end
and that is where she goes
to meet a friend.

Her pleasure cannot start
without my pain
for we must be apart
to meet again.