Delicate - just like a snowdrop Peeping softly in the spring Radiant and pure, untouched By the world's evil eyes. Sprightly - like some Irish fairy Hopping sweetly in the sun Bathing in the drops of dew Like a new-born, tiny Venus. Capricious - like a princess Long endulged since she was born Hearing daily of her beauty An the throne whence she will reign. Tragic - like the dying Caesar On the steps of his Senate Looking mournfully at Brutus Chiding him for the last time. Wrathful - like the wronged Monte Cristo Pondering upon revenge Gathering wealth for a purpose That with pleasure has no part. Disillusioned - like Macbeth Dreaming his cold kingly dream Giving in to his stern Lady Ending fatally and grim. And romantic - like a Juliet Beckoning her Romeo Never thinking of the future Never seeing far ahead. This is you, my muse - all these Maybe something extra, too Changeling, angel and fairy Demon, leprechaun and sprite. Not from this world are you, no Changing shape, purpose and scope Leading me ahead unheeding Leaving me alone and quizzed. Should I love you, hate you? Like you, or just tollerate you around? I don't know, my muse. You tell me But after I end this line.