Lucretia
All through the night, she spun threads till dawn.
Working and humming, a prince heard her song.
At supper they ate, her husband was gone.
Her virtue held strong, but it wouldn’t for long.
Lucretia, Lucretia, the prince has returned.
He comes in the dark, no way to discern.
Careful Lucretia, he likes when they burn.
She stays fast asleep, hearing no concern.
“Lucretia,” he said, his voice filled with might.
He held out a knife when she opened her eyes.
She could not believe, how he gave her a fright.
He held her right down, unable to rise.
“Don’t speak,” the prince says, “I know how to kill.”
Her voice does not come, not one tear can spill.
She will not escape for the prince makes her still.
Even the fear of death cannot bend her will.