Lowly, all pleasures sink;
No happiness it ever brought.
All joys that you may think
Repaint the pain you wrought,
Shall cling to you and bring
Horrors, woes, and rot.

Woe is you, woe is me—
She passes here at last.
Her voice and her shadow cast
The void that claws and stings.
Her shroud eternal, vast,
She that lives in darkness.

And beauty falls aghast by her tears;
The winding grass dances in trance beneath her marble feet.
Light couldn’t steal a glimpse of her,
Nor day or night dared to bring her peace.

For no moon shines above her head,
And the sun forgot and turned to rot
In her birthplace in the east.

All in shame in unison cried—
Angels and hellish beasts.

For devils could not stain her heart,
Nor soothe her pain, seraphims.

She that cloaks the darkness,
Her eyes that never sheen,
Made of hope departed
And all the forgotten dreams.

She knows every whining
Soul that dared to dream