Proposal

Were I at once acceding to your press,
In sombre disarray yet ere we'd be,
Through genesis tumulted in distress,
Deriding your compassion unto me.

When pressured by entreaty to decide,
My options narrowed snugly down to one,
The words I choose entangle blush from bride,
And darken any hope with setting sun.

So ask me not, avoiding thus disdain,
Clean-hatched from those whose ears seek your defeat,
Instead carve out your future from the grain
Of hardwood that is solid in retreat.

And I in turn to ease this into end,
Will scorn to hold allegiance as your friend.