Your true matriarchy

There once was a man who worked for a maid,
(Her grace was a Leah.) He refused to be paid.
So Rachel, her close twin, did meet him one morn.
He thought she was Leah and gathered some corn.

"How blooms your sweet soul, Good Leah of milk dew?"
   "Why slave you: for me? and bound your own wings?
   Have you not a kinsman? Or work as lovers do;
   Guard me with blood, in each land of kings?

   "Do you seek to seed me, even if I'm a wife?
   And what are your signs?" And now, he was mute;
But then he replied, "'Your care grew my root
That slaves for your smile which blooms my free life.

"'For sure I see kindred with lute and with toy.
But I serve your warmth; as men, and not boy.
Wherever you feet tread, I'll guard your good joy
Nor ravish your queen skirt: this pledge is no ploy.

"'I toil as your ox of hardened and proud
Yet ask for no wage nor coin of your purse.'
So Rachel; tell Leah this speech said aloud,
These words of my signs, I daily rehearse."

 
 
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