The Phoenix Bird
by Hans Christian Andersen
recited by Melissa

In the Garden of Paradise,
beneath the Tree of Knowledge,
bloomed a rose bush.
Here, in the first rose, a bird was born.
His flight was like the flashing of light,
his plumage was beauteous,
and his song ravishing.

But when Eve plucked the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil,
when she and Adam were driven from Paradise,
there fell from the flaming sword of the cherub
a spark into the nest of the bird,
which blazed up forthwith.

PREDATOR
by Circe

He's a charmer, soft and mild,
innocent, so like a child --
dark and shy, with melting eyes --
romantic murmurs, full of sighs.
She is touched and flattered both
by his simple heartfelt oath
of a love lasting forever
and his wish to be together.
Kissing him, she shuts her eyes,
her dream of love now realized.
As he draws her neck to him,
he whispers softly, low and grim:

Soft hearts
are easy prey.
You promised your devotion.
Give me what I need today,
and spare me your emotion!

She pulls away, filled with alarm.
How could he wish to do her harm?
Is this the love of which he spoke?
Was his vow an evil joke?
He looks quite hurt, and sheds a tear.
He thought that they were partners here.
Will she deny him what he needs?
Don't make him go elsewhere, he pleads.
Confusedly, and filled with guilt,
she swears her love will never wilt.
Before his teeth sink in her throat,
he adds another gentle note:

Soft hearts
are easy prey.
Your mercy is my sword.
And charity, as they all say,
is its own reward.

As he sucks life from her vein,
she tries to stifle cries of pain.
Great love calls for sacrifice --
if this be it, she'll pay the price.
He holds her tightly in his arm,
as though protecting her from harm,
grateful for the sustenance
that came to him without expense.
But as she dies and he grows strong,
he has the feeling something's wrong.
Someone acted rather badly,
so he says, a little sadly:

Soft hearts
are easy prey.
You should have seen my need.
We could have done this yesterday,
if not for your own greed.

He leaves her now she's cold and dead.
He feels alone, although well-fed.
He finds another willing soul
to listen to his tale of woe
of love that fled, and love that died,
and how he's hurt, and how he's cried.
Sympathy is what he craves --
what will lead her to her grave.
She must prove her love is true,
and give him what he thinks he's due.
He holds her hand, and all the while
thinking with a little smile:

Soft hearts
are easy prey.
How foolishly they give.
If they let me have my way,
they don't deserve to live.