She rolls upon the sigh of Orion 
Her voice Carries 
thro brume and mist 
These were days 
when the tide was high
The waters pure 
My Soul volcanic
As the scoriac valleys 
Onwards strolled
While our destiny remained
Entwined with the stars 
I said, "Gracefully she flies
Between the Goliath
Rivers of Spain
Our Salvation is Nigh
Encrusted through water
Our hope is restored."
And souls! The brave souls
Braced against the tide
Through the mid-December
(As we knew not 
the month nor day)
Harbored there, 
Beneath the air
Buried those poor souls
Between the shore and Bay
It was there 
In the city by the shore
When it was spoken 
But gave no token
In the days yond and fair 
Many years and longer still 
In the forsaken days of yore 
That those men 
Will not have died in vain
"Dust you were created 
Through sand and sin 
And shall you return
To dust again."

For yonder lady 
This Poem is penned.
Whose eyes express brightly
Gazing upon such measure 
Kept well in secrecy mind you
Twist the syllables in this rhyme.
Divinity-still a favorable token
Tho kind words remain unspoken 
Its letters, the many letters
Which rally upon a readers ear 
Does not merely comprehend that
The secret remains solely in the ink. 
The sound uttered in the reading
Although spoken falsely 
Not well kept close to heart 
The riddle remains unkept 
The truth an imaginative compensation 
Forbids the reader, 
And the poets, 
To cease from trying 
To rid the reader of 
The riddle in the rhyme.

It was many a year ago 
And even longer still,
In this lighthouse by the shore,
That I was sure I heard a noise,
A scream at my chamber door.

At that moment my soul grew weary,
My spirit naught but ash
Which had carcassed and fell upon the floor.
And my shadow still, by Earth and Will,
Which Surpassed me 
Long ago in the forsaken days
Of Yore.

At that moment in my heart
There was a certain burning
Soon there became a  
Constant Yearning
A desire that I had long
Forgot about before. 
A series of utter bedlam 
Which had never frightened me before.

Moments passed 
With no mere word 
Which was spoken 
Though remained unheard.

As I kept to myself
Upon my many books of lore 
As their voices broke the 
Untaimed silence 
And fell upon my ****** ear

"Shall I intrude 
This proven evil?
Is it man, or is it devil
Which made this deafening shrill upon my door?
Beast or human who so
Dared to leave his darkened 
Shadow upon the floor?"

At my door 
There came a sudden tapping
With many voices overlapping 
The voice of those 
Who had been dead and gone
Long before
Once a knock, nothing more.

The flames of Hell 
Grew in my eyes
From my chair
I was yet to rise
presently here
and no further
My soul I could pertain
No longer 
My faith doubted by the 
Very thing which stood
Behind my entrance door.

"Sir," said I. "Forgive me
If I seem mistreating
But the simple fact is 
Entrance indeed you are 
Entreating"
I stood there my heart ever beating. 
"Late is the night
I have no room to borrow
Though indeed you
may Return tomorrow 
Surely your departure
I must implore.
I admit I have not remained
A well kept host
I am a man not visited my most
I have my doubts 
And I became engrossed
Whem I was sure I heard you
Knocking at my chamber door"