When the music stops

Fine lady in 

the dappled dress

I see you hover

at the door. 

How long before we

see you no more?

The ball is over. 

Not long, I think. 

As you may guess

I fly to the

call of instinct. 

Lady please tarry,

I would wilt

and die of bliss

to taste

a single kiss. 

Your hasty wish 

is granted. 

Hear my spell:

'Nectar drunk,

prince enchanted'.

As the clock

strikes the hour,

words are spoken. 

All mortal bonds

are broken. 

The magic's done:

the prince a flower.

He glistens on,

one more lordly bloom

frozen in the lady's bower.