It Is But magic

What scares you, my love,

It is but magic.

Is it fear of disdain that bothers,

Or the angst of losing self in lieu?

Is it pain that a lover's begotten,

Or the menace of hearts, a few?

A dream is it, of the younger self,

That kills to call a truce?

Or does it hurt to think of me

As the lonesome lifelong muse?

Has time wound you around its arm,

Or gold stealth the sheen?

Does absence farce that devil's act,

Or peril sound routine?

Who ever gain'd from this gamble,

Without the chance to lose!

Let love bewitch-

Your soul the gleam won't refuse.

What frets you, my love,

It is but magic.