It's remotely possible that I've been listening too much to Scarborough Fair and other old tunes -- not to mention reading too many faery tales. At least I didn't actually intend to start something like this.

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If you would win my love again
then go and hunt for me
the dragon who with glittered wings
soars through the evening sky,
and trap him in a net of dreams,
and make him, by and by,
to plow the land between the strand
of golden sand and sea.

So you would twine your life with mine?
Then fetch for me the furs
of full one thousand breathing beasts,
and with them you must sew
a cloak for me without a seam
or single stitch below --
then make a gift to me, and I
will weave my life with yours.

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It's rough, I know, and it needs I think another stanza, perhaps two. I'm not sure how I feel about the rhyme scheme right now, either. Comments?