Mires And Clouds.
What beauty in such a mirthful dirge?
'Tis the most beautiful repose of words for a loather
Be near to gather the gloom from my restless heart
Then bless the most sinful shadow I'd found in laughter
When the wintry breeze fondle thy face again,
Worthy of their flowers will wither neath my misery
They will rot amongst the scent of their grave
And thee will sing for the songless corpses' malady
The nigh light hast seen the most forlorn of all
Fro her reddened masquerade and fro the last glance
Scented and neglected, the fainted adored the ebony
There will be no death that could draw me hence from ye
From ye only and not for the taste of bleak eternity
Thy mustered hymns wreathed the most whispered lie
Though black and dingy, come lay with me and die.
