Free Love Poem by cheryl davis miller

Once near the hamlit of Ravenswell
lived a young maiden in the dell.
From near and far most every male
longed for the maid from Ravenswell.

Her mother named her Avonlace
no blemish marred her lovely face.
Her heart was pure and bore no trace
of strife; to malice she gave no place.

The Squire of that little town
heard of her grace from all around.
He set his course to hunt her down
make her his wife once she was found.

He found her tending her few sheep
called from the knoll both high and steep
' I'll have your hand 'fore ere we sleep.'
All Avonlace could do was weep.

There was no choice for maids back then
she had no father nor next of kin.
Against the Squire she could not win
Avonlace surmised she must give-in.

She answered, 'Aye if it must be
I'll take your hand and marry thee;
I will do all required of me
but never shall your love I be.'

At first the Squire tho't he had won
he'd wed her 'fore the morning sun.
Then through his mind her words did run;
he realized what he had done.

He'd broken her and stole her will
her words told how he'd made her feel.
He'd never meant her heart to kill
he'd found her free; free she'd be still.

Amidst the garden he found Avonlace
he begged her pardon and her grace.
Then she reached out to touch his face
spoke, 'In my heart you've found a place.'

The moral of this tale you see
Love is a gift and must come free.
The choice of both it has to be
Or love; is just not love you see?

c.d.m.3-10-11