This is a poem about a famous King of England and the great love of his life. There are many clues as to the identity of this king and the fun is in guessing who he was--have a try.

M'Lord:
How could we have known that we would meet?
'Twas just the usual morning ride in discreet.
You a King, and I, a Scottish lass
Across the green-carpeted moors of Stirling Pass
That early misty morn near Highland's End,
When our horses came abreast around a bend,
And for a brief moment our eyes met
and held;
I panicked and fled.

Soon, the snowflakes fell; as Autumn turned to winter
And clung to the icicles outside the bare window.
O' the memory of your eyes, M'Lord,
Locked painful-sweet and throbbing in my heart;
Cupid's deep, burning, dart.

February came with diamond glints of ice on the trees.
Then spring and the crocus, and the budding green leaves.
Trembling, I mounted my horse; will he be there, my brief encounter?
"Be still," I told my pounding heart; my mind a blur.

'Twas on the grass, M'Lord
The sweet smell of heather scenting the Scottish air;
Their petals still wet with the dew that had so gently kissed their tips,
You made me yours as you kissed my lips.
"M'Lady," you had said, as one became two;
"You are more beaautiful than I imagined I cannot live without you."

Ours was a sad love, M'Lord
Meeting through the years
Only when you could, for brief encounters.
And now, through tme and space,
Fate has seen fit to bridge that royal place
Which made our love a secret story
Hidden from the pages of English history.
That love that suddenly had its start
Still waiting in our hearts.

Alas, M'Lord I should have told you
That night in the Inn, in the golden hue
As we laid bathed in candlelight.
I should have let loose my song as the lark in flight.
But time stood still, and I, too shy to cling,
And too proud to give in.
So enraptured was I, M'Lord,
I could not move; for fear 'twas just a dream
That I should hold you once again in a Moonbeam
Against my breast; close to my heart.
A heart that beats forever; waiting for a brief encounter.

Why Limoges, M'Lord, when you were warned?
Why galloped you into another battle, so lightly armed?
Was not your kingdom efficient:
My arms sufficient?
Chalus Chabrol--that name forever on my mind;
The pain of losing you forever held in time.