I stepped upon a root,

It nearly broke my foot.

‘Twas all that I did find

As we pushed against the wind.

Through trees the sound of laughter,

Yet, threatened times of slaughter:

The reason we must move,

To protect our nascent love.

For if she should come again,

And bring with her great rain,

I will have to vacate my seat,

No longer to be Great.

I mean not to imply

A decision made simply,

For the text of my life’s menus,

Comes the cry of once-great Venus:

When she seeks her only daughter,

Her inquiry met with laughter;

Thus ill she does but cough,

As breaks the once great bough—

And still she tries get through

But the forest is too tough.

So now she stands alone,

Her daughter, and I, gone.