Dear Lady Dead

Do envy her for some sweet relief,
But never do her scorn.
Do pluck your eyes in jealous fits,
But never bring her harm.
Never make her frail heart grief,
If you'er of some woman born,
Or utter such a bitter spit,
If you ever wore some worthy arm.
Do not make faces in her sight,
Or pass her uncouth gestures;
It leaves her in a sorry light,
And mocks her worthy treasures.
Her eyes may never heed your spite,
Her ears your hateful jeers.
She never seeks to seek requite,
Nor returns your loathful sneers.
But then, she cannot see your hate,
Nor can she hear my love.
Wish that you didnt share her fate,
For hearing ears she doesnt have.
Nor eyes that can my beauty see-
Alas! This dame is deaf and blind!
A heart with which to fall for me,
She lost it long and left it behind.
She cannot fathom this feeling;
My lady has lost her mind!
My h'art's broken, spoil'd and bleeding,
She's deaf, she's mad, she's blind!
She cannot utter half a word,
My half is also dumb.
She's pale and wan as that cold sword,
Which pierced and made her numb.
My dear is blind, mad, dumb and deaf
She's still. She sleeps in death!

To My Lost Love

This is not a fair dance, my dear lady.
I shall not play this trifling game of pretty
and love; I can indulge no more in this romace.
If you will not part, then give me a chance,
in the least, to look upon my lover's brow
And bask in the bliss her love on my breast endows,
Instead of playing, like a spoilt boy will,
In the shadows of your secret, unbending will.
Or shall I tell on you, lost love, to my mistress?
It shall strain things, and cause her great distress.
Because her mind, I dare to say, is weaker than
yours or mine, and, my dear, we know better than
That to anger my dearer half.
You must, I cannot hurt myself
More to say, you must take your leave now.
The curtain is closed, Now take a bow
So my true one may take her turn at my heart
While you go audition for another man's part.
Take Erin, or him, or that who cannot sleep
lest he kisses those lips and hands and feet
I so gracefully denied ere long after Eve came
Back to my life. Look, she cannot bear your name
On my lips, and their crimes of misnaming
her and giving her your crown; she disdained
My rude favour, and nearly could not forgive
My faulting tongue. See, now she cannot live
Without my love, nor would I want to without her's.
'T is a little hard to grasp, my dear, but here's
A little trouble we have made for us, but see I gain
Because of a little cunning wit, and you are in pain.
But I cannot help you lady, not with my presence,
That will be an error, I must greet you in absence
At best, or never greet at all, so to you I shall die
and be buried thus, and in your deep memories lie
dormant, with your love, till another brave man,
Who will love you, and care for you, better than
You ever wished I would have done, comes along
with flowers and candy and a cheerier song,
And calls you dear Petra, or another sweeter thing.
Who would come put your finger through his ring
O dear please, please go away!
'T was a much better day
When we were in whate'er we were
And it hurts me to think that we'er
No more, but then, we are no more
And shouldn't have, and not f'revermore!
And do not play on my soft feelings of pity;
It puts us (and my soft self more) in much misery.
But I cannot take upon myself this wrong duty.
Love is not pity; Love, pity, fondness is vanity
In the face of truer, more passionate love.
Love that, my lady-friend, you did not have.
Think on it, all who are drawn to this tale;
That him who loved once, and whose love failed
But once, and swore upon his good heart never to love,
For once, is caught in this ugly web of unrequitted love.
What more to prove, himself to gain from his earlier ills,
By pure luck, by fate, or by some keener will!

Woe

Sung with a heavy heart weighed like a leaded cloud,
Pregnant with woe!
Unseen portents faithless in the foretelling,
An unheard dirge of this unfolding prophecy
Breaking before the Golden dawn.
Long black curtains drawn
To close a morbid existence.
The pale spotlight fades
And blends to a frightening shade,
And forms many fey, fell shapes;
The stuff of hated dreams!
Sing to this sorrow,
And pass on,
To shadow.

Sinner's Redemption

I,
Like the lone minstrel
Cast out to waste away
Under the moon's torturous glare,

Beaten by biting, howling winds,
Canopied by heaven's very frown,
Captive by re-wakened guilts.

My senses grow a tad keener
As I, near dead, behold my fate,
And weep to fill this valley of regrets.

My
Despondent soul has gone astray.
Lost is the golden highway;
Now he treads on this dread path.

Heaven behind his disgraced gaze
And afore him hangs a cool, dreadful haze
Which conceales this awful fate.

Had God been just, would it be harsh,
But now he cannot turn His wrath
Which consumes like a passion wild.

I
Look far into the living darkness,
And into Hells fell, gaping jaws.
Then with a broken voice and lyre,

Sing myself an awful, final dirge,
Before the foul horde begins its splurge
And dines in its most unholy feast.

Cankers eat the very flesh that still dares
The hostility of this Hellish dream;
No shred of hope they spare.

My
Voice sounds sharp against the horrors;
Melodious, even in a face so hideous;
That I may be given even a portion of pity.

But none shall be heared of,
As their terrible cries silence my muse.
So too dies this last good gift.

And with it, all hope of a second chance.
This is the final act, before a damned
Spell of eternity, longful woe!

I,
As if heard from the deep
By one last Angel bright,
Waken from my dead sleep
As though all has been well right.

If Beauty Were Clouded By a Shade

If beauty were clouded by a shade;
A tad obscured;
Not full waxing in the night,
Half hid behind a lock of hair

So eyes gleamed with a lesser fair,
And fair were less, in a tainted light
Which long endures
The edicts, by which all beauties fade.