“Who will buy my baubles fair
Made of glass and stillborn air?
What will you trade to cheat death?
I can sell you life’s lost breath.
Why tremble at trinkets I bid you pay?
Worse pain lies in throwing heart away.
Don’t let your true wish fade and fall
Pay my price to heed dream’s call.
Beware; be you bold, lovely or clever—
Happy endings I promise, never.”