Love's Labor Lost Poem by PRIYANKA BHANDARKAR

Well i will love, love and sigh
the moor must love, a long Joan of arc
the owl as 'ole', a puny name cuckold
pleasant, just and courtesy with wooing
love three a year to reach the cuckoo's song
two on way death, farewell and fructify
the last sorted and consorted, paved with thine eyes
o upward lies, the street she walked.heaven or deed.
and i to sigh, to pray for her.
admire and made by two birds.
to lose our oaths ourselves to keep oaths
it is religion thus be forseen and occur
then for the place where i mean
on blue colored ink and snow white pen
your king dead for life, worthier away;
the cloud, i give back again; 'welcome'!