Mine

"Thine eyes do glisten, Peneus' child,

Your manners are meek, sweet, and mild.

How you glisten beneath my rays,"

Spoke Apollo on his lazy days.

At first, he watched, admiring so,

Never seeking after her to go.

His eyes were soft, and hers did gleam,

As she passed her days in a hazy dream.

One day, however, as Apollo stared,

He began instead to wickedly glare.

Inside his mind a thought was born,

Why must he only stare and mourn?

If her white, and milky flesh,

Were in his hands, he would refresh.

He would feel loved and well cared for,

By the one his heart adored.

"Why, Apollo, son of Zeus,"

answered his quick, witted muse.

"You cannot hold or her restrain,

For she's the river's child, and can't be tamed.

Holding her would hurt thy heart,

For she shall wish from you to depart."

"Silence!" raged the god of sunlight

Taking her words as an evil slight.

"She is mine and mine to chain,

just as the deer, stag, or crane.

Hunted as the beast of burden,

she is mine after this excursion."

And to the woods the youth did fly,

To catch his beloved as he passed her by.

Yet she heard him coming near,

and so began to flee in fear.

"You cannot have me," she exclaimed,

"You, I hated and disdained,

Since dawn first broke at the birth of Earth,

You would never bring me mirth."

But still he chased her, pursuing always,

Saying, "You shall be mine for all days."

Foolish Apollo! Don't you know?

You cannot have what is not yours to own,

You cannot not hunt the frightened beast,

Demanding "Love me!" as you feast.

And so her flesh hardened beneath his grasp,

As the last breath from her lips did pass.

And from her arms, branches grew,

And the Laurel Tree was born anew.