Saw the heart within its nest,
Saw the flame of heart's desire, -
Marked his arrow's burning crest.
Cupid took another dart,
Fledged it for another heart,
Winged the shaft with heart's desire, -
Drew the string and said "Depart!".
Paris turned upon his bed,
Turned upon his bed and said,
Dead at heart with heart's desire, -
"O, to clasp her golden head!"
love, unfortunately, is something i only know from books and poems like this.
i'll never get my storybook ending.
i'm new here by the way.