Endeared with Heart like yours I loved
Enamoured of its spiritual wealth
But my vain, fickle obsessions
Left us in bad and woeful health
Holy, I committed to fantasy
Dedicated to the land of dreams
And all they promise us to yield
Though they betrayed me with fetid, fruitless stream
My love was devout, near religious
You were more than just a trophy
My feelings were prolific and prodigious
The blooming flower rosy
   But I go gentle, alone in to the night
   For all the mutual hate and spite