"abysses" poems
Sipping the air of a city night
So heady in the cold
On the move under static lights
Little worlds about
To collide
Gravity frivolity
Draw broken hearts like earth bound stars
As the pull of every
Small storied point holds others back
From abysses beneath
Dark waters
Lone souls each and all
Compose this metropolis
Joy is to be
Discovered in insignificance
Where together
We belong
Jan 16, 2019
Jan 16, 2019 at 1:00 PM UTC
The name was Antappan.
On his wedding invitation
He printed the famous words
Hodie Mihi Cras Tibi -
(Today it's me, tomorrow it will be you.)
Whoever asked
“Are you nuts, Antappaaa?”
Got a voiceless laugh in reply.
In native tongue
The laughter said
No quotes are quoted
Except through one’s own life.
Though not a charming name
It ‘s true that from that day
Antappan came to be called
Hodie Mihi Cras Tibi Antappan.
Everyone who attended
Hodie Mihi Cras Tibi Antappan’s wedding
Wolfed down the pork and the beef.
Everyone who attended
Hodie Mihi CrasTibi Antappan’s wedding
Gifted pretty sums of money in envelopes.
Everyone who attended
Hodie Mihi Cras Tibi Antappan’s wedding
Said nasty comments about the bride.
Everyone who attended
Hodie Mihi Cras Tibi Antappan’s wedding
Asked the sound system guy to play
You are lucky I am lucky loudly.
But before that a small incident at the church. As soon as he set his eyes on Antappan who was a grave digger the Chaplain forgot the wedding and without asking who died began to set the church bell tolling in that rhythm reserved for deaths. The senior Priest who heard it came running and opening the small prayer book for the dead began to sing the song the seeds sprout in the fields when it rains. Hearing that the girls in the choir sang the rest of the song when they hear the clarion call life sprouts in the dead and went on to the prose portion I call you lord from the abysses. Seeing that the boy who helps with the communion lighted the candle and incense stick for the dead. (Meanwhile the bride’s naughty song you who is not dead yet will you not **** me tonight also rang in Hodie Mihi Cras Tibi Antappan’s ears.) Hodie Mihi Cras Tibi Antappan who realized that the same flowers meant to be wreaths at some house of death were now adorning his ***** as a garland laughed his famous voiceless laugh.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 1:25 AM UTC
I am your dark side
A cold wave of destruction
In the night of your soul i hide
Whispering sweet ****** temptation
Your blood feels thin
As i clutch at your heart
To your fear, give in!
Before i torn you apart
You'll pray & hope to resist
Closing your eyes, clenching your fists
For the voices to finally desist
A feeble faith to stand alone amidst
Brain wrapped in chains
Consciousness fades away
You break all restrains
A murderous rage you obey...
Envy, Lust, Wrath, all will begin
As you fall into the abysses of each of these sins
Swallowed in flames, you'll burn from within
Hate oozing from each pores of your skin
While the night reigns
Hunt down your preys
Their blood filled veins
Soon spilled away
You will **** their souls
Invade their bodies & mind
As your ripper within howls
Hellish wrath & lust combined
You will rip them open
Crotch to chin
Tormented in pain
With a cold blade of steel...
Dark blood gushing out on your face
Their screams filling your ears
An ****** of furry you will taste
Crying a liberated flow of tears
On their lungs, you shall carve your name
As they breathe you until their last moment
A death they will meet so inhumane
For your own twisted amusement
Breathe in their fumes
Of their grossly opened guts
Sickening stench inner perfume
Steaming out from a thousand cuts
Life leaving their eyes
As sun rays come to rise
Your inner beast satisfies
By the blood lust of their demise
Your humanity to awake
As your Demon asleep & gone
The horror of your deeds taking shape
Oh tell me, tell me, what have you done?!
Razor claws & fangs that gnash deep
Hold the Bible & grab a crucifix
For the Demon back again as you try to sleep
Night after night reborn as the Phoenix
Aug 3, 2012
Aug 3, 2012 at 4:28 AM UTC
A breath, yours
soft, hot, chilling
the ear, mine
curved - an art on skin
the meeting of both
explodes, a confetti of feelings
a beat becomes a throb
throbbing madness
of that breath that still flows
a begging of hearts
a pleading of souls
begging the emptiness of body
an urging of minds
that breath that still flows
into begging hearts
fills the pleading souls
walls crumble
on soft ground they meet the heart
received, converted into trust
by the breath that still flows
excitement abides
eyes meet and hold
gazes into abysses of longing
a tide covers the belonging
the connection of two hearts at sea
joined by that breath that still flows
into that skin, that art
is but the wind with memory
spun, ebbed, blown, twisted by time
made into dreams fused with reality
the tail of one, the head of the other
its that breath that still flows
Jan 9, 2013
Jan 9, 2013 at 12:34 PM UTC
My soul is an enchanted boat,
Which, like a sleeping swan, doth float
Upon the silver waves of thy sweet singing;
And thine doth like an angel sit
Beside a helm conducting it,
Whilst all the winds with melody are ringing.
It seems to float ever, for ever,
Upon that many-winding river,
Between mountains, woods, abysses,
A paradise of wildernesses!
Till, like one in slumber bound,
Borne to the ocean, I float down, around,
Into a sea profound, of ever-spreading sound:
Meanwhile thy spirit lifts its pinions
In music’s most serene dominions;
Catching the winds that fan that happy heaven.
And we sail on, away, afar,
Without a course, without a star,
But, by the instinct of sweet music driven;
Till through Elysian garden islets
By thee, most beautiful of pilots,
Where never mortal pinnace glided,
The boat of my desire is guided:
Realms where the air we breathe is love,
Which in the winds and on the waves doth move,
Harmonizing this earth with what we feel above.
We have past Age’s icy caves,
And Manhood’s dark and tossing waves,
And Youth’s smooth ocean, smiling to betray:
Beyond the glassy gulfs we flee
Of shadow-peopled Infancy,
Through Death and Birth, to a diviner day;
A paradise of vaulted bowers,
Lit by downward-gazing flowers,
And watery paths that wind between
Wildernesses calm and green,
Peopled by shapes too bright to see,
And rest, having beheld; somewhat like thee;
Which walk upon the sea, and chant melodiously!
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first glance
beast out of the darkness
frozen in time
majestic seahorse
carrying Aphrodite
grace rising effortlessly
abysses grip released with ease
wielding her magic over moon goddess
while she imagines the first eclipse
illuminated ring circling
shades of darkness
dominating the sky
goddess Selene rests her motion
etching love in eyes
through lasting heartbeats
reflecting the rings
true brilliance
setting the sky on fire
being
one in the sameness
Feb 13, 2019
Feb 13, 2019 at 3:51 PM UTC
There never was a face as fair as yours,
A heart as true, a love as pure and keen.
These things endure, if anything endures.
But, in this jungle, what high heaven immures
Us in its silence, the supreme serene
Crowning the dagoba, what destined die
Rings on the table, what resistless dart
Strike me I love you; can you satisfy
The hunger of my heart!
Nay; not in love, or faith, or hope is hidden
The drug that heals my life; I know too well
How all things lawful, and all things forbidden
Alike disclose no pearl upon the midden,
Offer no key to unlock the gate of Hell.
There is no escape from the eternal round,
No hope in love, or victory, or art.
There is no plumb-line long enough to sound
The abysses of my heart!
There no dawn breaks; no sunlight penetrates
Its blackness; no moon shines, nor any star.
For its own horror of itself creates
Malignant fate from all benignant fates,
Of its own spite drives its own angel afar.
Nay; this is the great import of the curse
That the whole world is sick, and not a part.
Conterminous with its own universe
the horror of my heart!
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Not long ago, the writer of these lines,
In the mad pride of intellectuality,
Maintained “the power of words”—denied that ever
A thought arose within the human brain
Beyond the utterance of the human tongue:
And now, as if in mockery of that boast,
Two words—two foreign soft dissyllables—
Italian tones, made only to be murmured
By angels dreaming in the moonlit “dew
That hangs like chains of pearl on Hermon hill,”—
Have stirred from out the abysses of his heart,
Unthought-like thoughts that are the souls of thought,
Richer, far wilder, far diviner visions
Than even the seraph harper, Israfel,
(Who has “the sweetest voice of all God’s creatures,”)
Could hope to utter. And I! my spells are broken.
The pen falls powerless from my shivering hand.
With thy dear name as text, though hidden by thee,
I cannot write—I cannot speak or think—
Alas, I cannot feel; for ’tis not feeling,
This standing motionless upon the golden
Threshold of the wide-open gate of dreams,
Gazing, entranced, adown the gorgeous vista,
And thrilling as I see, upon the right,
Upon the left, and all the way along,
Amid empurpled vapors, far away
To where the prospect terminates—thee only!
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Twilight unfolds
In your eyes
Dark layers
holding abysses infinite .
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 6:26 AM UTC
.
Hello **archangel,
fallen goddess behind my morgue.
Whose complexion equaled the moon,
craters and abysses,
cascading like salt on
an empty**
wound.
**With the crosshairs of nicotine
a mirage on her cracked lips;**
“Leave me,
lowly poet,
Your pity is unbecoming.
I am the 13th fallen sister,
so linger here
no longer.”
“Death is an old friend,
I fear not his company,
nor his demise.”
**I’ve never seen such eyes;
glass-stained,
divine & unpredictable.**
“I’ll **** you.”
“Darling, I’m already dead.”
**Her monologues could summon the dead,
she preached of the lovers
who bore no fruit
and the heartless
that lay eternal
in the eyes of
her dalliance.
I’d often find myself
yearning at the pebbles at her gravestone,
impatient, to be graced by her
ink soul and** rhapsodic presence.
“Are you my friend,
poet?”
“No,
I am much more.”
**And for centuries
of cracked dawns and
folded nights,
shallow moons &
crippled suns,
we’d meet---
poet to god,
at her morgue.**
“Poet,
why must the most beautiful
people die?”
**She once asked me.
Alured, I answered:**
“When you’re in a garden,
which flowers do you pick?”
“...The most beautiful ones.”
**I’d spend my seconds ‘neath the gallows,
among the bones
of her brethren,
all had fallen before her,
from the house of god.
I bargained my soul with Ursula,
my sins with Lupus,
I ignored their tempertantrums
& discord.
That very evening I stitched a universe,
upon her shoulder-blades.**
“What are these?”
“Wings.”
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 8:28 PM UTC
I no longer want to feel like a bottom of a whiskey bottle
like the last sip of regret before my head hits the table.
This story I wish was a happy one but I know longer
know how to write the happy ones.
I have seen both heaven and hell, but of the worse I say neither.
The worst is the empty room, my own purgatory.
Here there is no joy, no pain just an endless forever
and I have seen forever and I seen never.
The promise of tomorrow has became the threat of today.
Today is the abysses of which my toes stand upon the edge
Creeping ever closer to the final descent,
the leap into darkness, in pursuit of peace.
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 7:19 AM UTC
Magnificent blue tent is spread over my head. I look at it without a word while the audience throws unleashed cries of encouragement. "Go, go! The net is under!" . Hands holding a long pole. Providing a first step towards a string of fate, felt my face turn white as a mask on it. The sudden touch of metal wire under my feet breaks the breath from my lungs. One blink and everything disappears, my steps are steps of fate that slowly sneaks maneuvering between two abysses. My hands have grown together with rod and turned into a solid dragon wings. Through spread nostrils I am breathing in sweet smell of victory, and exhale fire of disappointments and saliva of defeat. The audience is still unleashed: "Fly, don’t you see you have wings? Fly!". I move slowly, like a white panther whose fur is embellished with blue diamonds. I walk slowly, coping with every step, feeling soothing palpitations, it was just a short-term earthquake which shook my knees, elbows and fingers. The epicenter was reported somewhere in the abdomen, waves of heat and uncertainties have slowly spread to my limbs, passing with from my skin through electrified air to the audience. The earthquake, which I've already forgotten strongly encompassed thousands of rosy faces and bright eyes squeezing out of them delighted "Ooooh," while I slowly crossed my way through streets covered with traps. Heavy load on my back, large stones of tedious requests, cramp biting my shoulders, neck and bending my spine, as if all this is gone in an instant, while I safely walk under Dragon armor down the sunny street of bravery. I arrived at the other end of the wire ordeal and with the final step I realize that there is no place for fear, nervousness, that I'm not an amateur in a professional competition, Harlequin has survived another day. Tomorrow when the load again rises to the scale of the iceberg, when again I become stray ignorant in acrobatics exam, tomorrow, if it ever comes, I'll think about it. Perhaps there is sun and melts the icebergs, might come truck and drive my loads away, I may again grow wings to bring me over the abyss.
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 2:07 PM UTC
*Electric Fire
Liquid Desire
Purged Mists
Lost Restrains
My mind was born in dark abysses
From destructive rebellion inside of me
I see the world in colors of traitorous death
I can feel a brotherly hand of the devil
I've thrown off the shackles, shackles rounded by the thorn
I've killed the weakness, weakness designated to commoners
The covenant signed in childish ignorance
Broken as a fruit from paradise garden
I've entered the palace of free hellish elites
Living behind a grey, wormy nest
I've cut the umbilical cord, an umbilical cord filled with venom
I've thrown away my memories, cursing all the past.
20-05-2015
02:55 AM*
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 9:42 AM UTC
My terror grows with each passing night,
As slow, steady darkness steals away sight.
Footsteps and whispers add to my fright —
Is there an end to such desperate plight?
How long, too long, till dawn’s early light!
I clutch my candle in trembling hand,
And watch the shadows dance to understand
What I envision as its light expands
Through the room and down the hall’s span.
There lingers a vision, diaphanous and pale,
Shifting and shuddering, as though it were frail,
Whispering softly a most horrible wail.
Eyes no more than twin black abysses,
The vision approaches to beg final kisses.
Heavy, so heavy, my heart thuds in my chest.
From hall to room the visitant creeps,
Upon my mortal form it silently seeps.
Gliding in silence, not walking — not quite —
Closer it comes with its sulfurous blight.
My eyes are held tight — can’t even blink right.
Lips part, jaw drops, revealing a black maw;
The specter extends one moon-gray claw,
Caressing my cheek with a grave-cold paw.
My throat constricts — no breath do I draw.
It locks my eyes with hell’s black gaze,
Until moonlight strikes in golden rays.
The phantasm shudders and starts to blaze,
Struggles again its arm to raise —
But from the light it reels in malaise.
And heavy, so heavy, my heart thuds in my chest.
The hallucination retreats, as though pressed,
Back to the doorway — its intent suppressed —
Shrinking into the dark hall, a lost contest,
Driven by a moonbeam so blessed,
Whose gentle light coursed to my relief
And unmasked the fear beneath belief —
The frightful soul-stealing thief
That stalked and grieved me, if only brief.
Now I breathe, and calm my soul:
“Twas nothing but a myth… a troll.”
Then thunder pealed a mighty toll.
Wind brought rain and a thundercloud —
Again that wail, this time loud.
Oh heavy, so heavy, my heart… no more…
Sep 9, 2025
Sep 9, 2025 at 3:20 PM UTC
The smoke dissolves in my lungs. A constellation of bright stars forms in the depths of your eyes, weaving a language of orchestral, luminous memories—one that cannot fathom the endless possibilities of your devotion.
Maybe if I write these words and keep them inside my dismantled heart, love will come to find me. Maybe in a thousand abysses that grieve love, the heavens and the earth will entwine their fresh waters and frozen tears; faint sheets of light will envelop my already soul-weary skin and thus will seep in like a sun gently fleeting its warm light into the night sky, sojourning in the consoling darkness until dawn.
And if I tell you, that I have so much love to give, would you grow thorns and leave me in the cold, barren night like a stray dog, or would you come running across the ends of the earth—tiptoeing in bedazzling stars and soft sands, rushing into me?
Aug 23, 2025
Aug 23, 2025 at 1:53 PM UTC
This awakening has cost me the company of fellow men.
Even when I am not conveying my deepest thought,
even when our conversations are a mere pastime,
they cannot bear to be in the presence of me.
My shallow and long ago digested thoughts
strike them as terrifying, deep abysses.
And I cannot undo that which I have come to know.
The roads I had once walked are forever sealed off.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 6:15 PM UTC
I stand upon my native hills again,
Broad, round, and green, that in the summer sky
With garniture of waving grass and grain,
Orchards, and beechen forests, basking lie,
While deep the sunless glens are scooped between,
Where brawl o'er shallow beds the streams unseen.
A lisping voice and glancing eyes are near,
And ever restless feet of one, who, now,
Gathers the blossoms of her fourth bright year;
There plays a gladness o'er her fair young brow,
As breaks the varied scene upon her sight,
Upheaved and spread in verdure and in light.
For I have taught her, with delighted eye,
To gaze upon the mountains,--to behold,
With deep affection, the pure ample sky,
And clouds along its blue abysses rolled,--
To love the song of waters, and to hear
The melody of winds with charmed ear.
Here, I have 'scaped the city's stifling heat,
Its horrid sounds, and its polluted air;
And, where the season's milder fervours beat,
And gales, that sweep the forest borders, bear
The song of bird, and sound of running stream,
Am come awhile to wander and to dream.
Ay, flame thy fiercest, sun! thou canst not wake,
In this pure air, the plague that walks unseen.
The maize leaf and the maple bough but take,
From thy strong heats, a deeper, glossier green.
The mountain wind, that faints not in thy ray,
Sweeps the blue steams of pestilence away.
The mountain wind! most spiritual thing of all
The wide earth knows; when, in the sultry time,
He stoops him from his vast cerulean hall,
He seems the breath of a celestial clime!
As if from heaven's wide-open gates did flow
Health and refreshment on the world below.
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Vaguely lit by the summer moon of dark blue, pierced with light; the river murmurs, the devils paladins; lies in wait for more than a thousand years! the evening shadows pulling faces, the hidden window. Of worlds on a journey, a thousand years sad ophelia. Has murmured its ballad, the paladins are dancing. Sighing around her through this horror of space. The black gallows moans, and to all these worlds his black puppets weep on her shoulder, of an eternal voice unfathomable space; I no longer felt myself, I have seen malstroms eternal, devouring the green azores, where the eyes of panthers trembled to feel, down into the abysses! the black gallows moans.
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 1:08 PM UTC
STAY CLOSE, MY HEART -- RUMI
Stay close, my heart, to the one who knows your ways;
Come into the shade of the tree that allays has fresh flowers.
Don't stroll idly through the bazaar of the perfume-markers:
Stay in the shop of the sugar-seller.
If you don't find true balance, anyone can deceive you;
Anyone can trick out of a thing of straw,
And make you take it for gold
Don't squat with a bowl before every boiling ***
In each *** on the fire you find very different things.
Not all sugarcanes have sugar, not all abysses a peak;
Not all eyes possess vision, not every sea is full of pearls.
O nightingale, with your voice of dark honey! Go on lamenting!
Only your drunken ecstasy can pierce the rock's hard heart!
Surrender yourself, and if you cannot be welcomes by the Friend,
Know that you are rebelling inwardly like a thread
That doesn't want to go through the needle's eye!
The awakened heart is a lamp; protect it by the him of your robe!
Hurry and get out of this wind, for the weather is bad.
And when you've left this storm, you will come to a fountain;
You'll find a Friend there who will always nourish your soul.
And with your soul always green, you'll grow into a tall tree
Flowering always with sweet light-fruit, whose growth is interior.
(translated by Andrew Harvey)
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 11:11 PM UTC
Havoc of the heavy-hearted
Which from their grief are never parted
Gloom by sunshine never thwarted
Stultified, folding down on knees
Excess of nothing, excess of nothing!
And the absence of all.
From canyons do we creep,
Endlessly creep,
With blisters on our feet
From abysses twice so deep.
Love is not matter.
But matter is does.
These ragdoll knees render my collapse;
Caught midway 'tween a twinkling synapse.
Apr 7, 2010
Apr 7, 2010 at 4:42 PM UTC
It Was One Of Those Nights
When The Abysses Of Sorrow
Put Their Weight On The Heart
Making You Wish You Tear It Apart.
When The Fractures Of The Soul
Expand From The Deepest Void
Emerging In Waves Of Salt
Filling the Eyes Wide Shut Painfully
When Your Insignificance and Hopelessness
Are Pouring Through The Crimson Rivers
And You Want To Let Them Flow Open
Begging Life To Have Mercy
The Cloud Came Floating Over Me
A Storm Of Pure Chaotic Darkness
Animated By A Sea Of Lightning
Reasoning Of Silent Thunders
A Slow Descent Of Majesty In The Realm
A Gate To Relief From Despair
Coming Face To Face With Its Creation
Feeling The Pain Of Its Tortured Soul
A Gray Form Drawing On the Black Vapor
Emerging From The Infinity Of Time
Feeling From The Sorrow Of The Caller
Materializing In A Peaceful Face
Eyes Shut As They Can Not Dare To See
Lips Closed As They Can Not Dare To Taste
Light Hair Floating In Evanescence
Approaching Slowly To My Agonizing Face
The Eyes Opening Slowly, Letting Flow Moonlight Rays
The Lips Carefully Dividing, Startdust Dropping On My Face
Winds Of Compassion Entering My Soul
Twin Love Reviving Dark Ashes
As I Saw The Face Faded Away
The Cloud Returned To The Void Of Creation
I Knew That I Will Cut Widely The Red Rivers
For The Light Is Not Meant For Me
Warlock
Mar 10, 2010
Mar 10, 2010 at 1:16 PM UTC
I'm liable to forget
That we all have phantoms
Hollow spaces
Dug and never refilled
And it was only last October
That I began wondering
Whether you miss your baby brother
Who never breathed
Your parents named him John
And I began wondering
If
Like me
You sometimes fell
Into the caverns and abysses that gaped
From the expectant space
In every family portrait
And whether you occasionally lost yourself
In the pregnant air inside your house
That anticipated an un-breathed child
An unused bedroom
And grew thick and stale
In it's emptiness.
I'm liable to forget
That we all have dropped stitches
And voids
And holes in our favourites scarves
Our brothers slipped down the plughole
But I mostly forgot about yours
Because mine was blood
And yours was always
As fickle as water.
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 2:57 PM UTC
Those beautiful abysses where conscience
Awakes to the smell of incense
muscles seeking other beings
To obscure alleys
your hair and the ribbon
Atop those ******* resting on a humming bird
The sweet taste of hachis brings forth
Remembrances of life before God
Lovely the silent ****** of night
desire ablaze with fiery eyes
To You and the skin you wear
Like the unknown land of nevermore
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 9:19 AM UTC
Thou unrelenting Past!
Strong are the barriers round thy dark domain,
And fetters, sure and fast,
Hold all that enter thy unbreathing reign.
Far in thy realm withdrawn
Old empires sit in sullenness and gloom,
And glorious ages gone
Lie deep within the shadow of thy womb.
Childhood, with all its mirth,
Youth, Manhood, Age, that draws us to the ground,
And last, Man's Life on earth,
Glide to thy dim dominions, and are bound.
Thou hast my better years,
Thou hast my earlier friends--the good--the kind,
Yielded to thee with tears--
The venerable form--the exalted mind.
My spirit yearns to bring
The lost ones back--yearns with desire intense,
And struggles hard to wring
Thy bolts apart, and pluck thy captives thence.
In vain--thy gates deny
All passage save to those who hence depart;
Nor to the streaming eye
Thou giv'st them back--nor to the broken heart.
In thy abysses hide
Beauty and excellence unknown--to thee
Earth's wonder and her pride
Are gathered, as the waters to the sea;
Labours of good to man,
Unpublished charity, unbroken faith,--
Love, that midst grief began,
And grew with years, and faltered not in death.
Full many a mighty name
Lurks in thy depths, unuttered, unrevered;
With thee are silent fame,
Forgotten arts, and wisdom disappeared.
Thine for a space are they--
Yet shalt thou yield thy treasures up at last;
Thy gates shall yet give way,
Thy bolts shall fall, inexorable Past!
All that of good and fair
Has gone into thy womb from earliest time,
Shall then come forth to wear
The glory and the beauty of its prime.
They have not perished--no!
Kind words, remembered voices once so sweet,
Smiles, radiant long ago,
And features, the great soul's apparent seat.
All shall come back, each tie
Of pure affection shall be knit again;
Alone shall Evil die,
And Sorrow dwell a prisoner in thy reign.
And then shall I behold
Him, by whose kind paternal side I sprung,
And her, who, still and cold,
Fills the next grave--the beautiful and young.
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