Have I Once Again Misunderstood The Muse

Whom do these letters of love accuse that stabs my heart with vitriol unfair, have I once again misunderstood the muse and reached for heights I never should have dared. Before the rampage in gentler times, before bitterness infested my mind; what sweet song the forest nymphs prepared and tuned the chords with fingers swift and gay, composing words in language bright and rare to the dozing woods sung their midnight lay, in soft voices that graced the evening air. This song given me so that I might stay abandoning the wild ocean for the peaceful bay; notes of happiness, a blissful state beheld, before I craved that which I could not own. In the cesspool of desire I fell when once thy touch, thy kiss, thy heart was known far from these sacred shores I must atone. Let not the muse or nymph my faults suffer or break under the pressure of thy crown for I trace in my mind this lone picture and hold myself accountable in their stead.