Curdle this in that greatest heart of thine,
So solemn this darkness upon that which shrouds,
So finer this light upon which this darkness harks,
How dark am I the light that banishes me,
I am the pleasurable of the darkness within.

Dispatch me dear Lady for am the mind yours slept,
See how I tremble before Thee and slowly recuperate;
For am feared of Thee while these words flee from me,
But this ghost of mine this light of thine the dark of mine;
I am fading into darkness while this trembles this light.

He alights himself upon Thy feet and hither upwards stare:
That this fine figure beheld upon her sight so true a Deity;
Now, looked upon Herself and pity him, for he’s only broken;
For he’s only broken, and so pity him for all the pity that took,
Ah, this pain destroys me and the pleasure reduces me to dust.

Forsake me, my fair Lady; that these tears here this tree wept;
So err me this hour bespoke through time come hence ere allowed,
Forget this hand upon Thine. This only the wind’s cold withdraws me;
That whose cold derive from Thee, though Justice strikes. Alas, alas.
I am only this fading as the darkness continues.

Category:
Nature, Nocturnal, Poetry, Works
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