Rondel I

My lover has the reddest hair
Indeed, and fickl'est of moods.
At times she may seem coarse and rude,
Yet still I know of none so fair.

I must repeat that none compare,
though condescension she exudes.
My lover has the reddest hair
Indeed, and fickl'est of moods.

Both her heart and her womb are bare.
A brood? No gift, we each conclude.
And sympathetic attitudes,
For misanthropes, create a pair.
My lover has the reddest hair
Indeed, and fickl'est of moods.