Exsquisite Melancholy
Time is like a shadow bright
It fades and never can requite
A lip, a shade, a palest kiss
The sorrow that my heart did wish
Clasped upon the rose and chain
When fate cannot thus so agonize
Time my love so silhouettes
As though a vogue of deep regret
These words of subtle renaissance
Is the cross that beauty haunts
When the vampire of my love hath gave
No touch thus blossomed on the grave
Where love it’s final rose hath laid,
Ife a cross of tragic waste
A ghost unkissed that none can save
Whom haunts upon the untomb’d hills
Of souls no sorry hath so filled
Save in an orb of perfect form
Which revolves its orbit ever more
Like words of God I whisper thus
To become no wretch of love untrue.
Time, my love, a shadow makes
Beyond where memories never wake
And shades of fate do silhouette
The seas and evening’s last regret
When I alone in loneliness
of all I ever did desire
Shouldst ever neath a cross aspire
To see the sunlight rise again
Within a coffin made of stone
Without my dark and final home
My heart in chains of irony athralled
the romaunt of this lost abyss
the seas that thrall the mortal chains
of every tear so phantom-like
shouldst thus beneath a cross restrain
shouldst fall ineluctable
as though a ghost whose heart bereft
yea! ghost of every thought our love has kept
when the iron hand is turned
throughout the world of circumstance.
No soul! No solace! No sepulcher!
On seas of sorrow my soul has thrived
Into the sunlight of my tears,
Where eternal is the cross of mine.
Yet despair! I do not so enthrall
Nor linger in its gothic halls
Where haunts a sorrow so forlorn
The chords of fate are thus so torn.
Shall not a kiss at last confess
till every silhouette of love regrets
the time which did thus or less
rendezvous with true affair
for how should a moment thus unbe
unequal to my tis a thee?
Yet if a shadow thus can reach
Just like a phantom in the fire
As far as any shadow can beseech
To fall beneath the final breach
Every pillar made of stone
Into the coffin of my soul
Where all my life is laid
To find my way across the sea
And back to my surreal belief
That shadows conspire to be free.
Yet if a gothic lash of love
Shouldst caress my very soul
As though a lover loved untouched
Couldst thus become unloved
In shadows I like woes do dream
Of all that never never seemed
as though in darkness a faith did boast
what faith a face did not so recognize
when met by those most solemn stars
that ever like the cross are ours.
My sorrow should confess so close
Thus a prince and pauper I become
The pauper prince of love!
Thus now I see with gothic eyes
Thy shape as chased by candelight
As grey as melancholy in the shadowlight
Where every shadow left bereft
As grey as melancholy I regret
One season and a shadow knows
Whose shape reflects no shade to show
as far as vast beyond the phantom sea
thus like fate shall thrive in misery
though fate fortell what I believe
yet if in visions vast as true
as God or man hath given you
then all my souls so lost forlorn
shall not thus regret no heart untorn
o wraith of my most forlorn woe
my heart no tear my shadow knows
upon a cross of gothic light
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