Torment, what bliss I did
to owe this primrose path
that transgression thee commit
and rejoice in my spathe.
Yon through the frigid lake
thee come cold and earnest
thy end no prey shall see
thee bring the brawny mist.
Thy tales did tribes tell
of vagrants in mausoleum held
who call to see the cherubim sing
those men till end in delirium dwell.
Voices of myriad bards I heard
who oracled my ruin in thee
that if I breathe thy arid wind
death shall soon coax me.
So colorable their denounces seem
for once methought,
they had me charmed
shall I abstain me to thee or naught.
But when thee to me clearly come
and to me wed thy three beauty lass
my mind cleared as cloudless sky
then, gay, I walked through dark crevasse.
There in the wilderness I found me home
I learned in life the need of pain
that to heal thee art the perfect partner
in thee is life exquisite attained.
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 11:19 PM UTC