The Whip of Torture

THE WHIP OF TORTURE By Immaculata Ortner In the loss of Maiden’s head In time briefly spend in pleasure The glass of her treasure is broken And tyranny like a babe is molded With frames of friendly brain And lames of deceitful claims Sparkling like lightning in vain But freeze blood with hate Like a tragic tale of viper’s sting With whip of torture, thou toss my heart And wrapped my mind with fear Oh pains of an angel lost! Oh tale of a lost gold! Oh love for a rose that grips in vain Crack thy shell and free thy slave Thou love that stiff and sniff with choice Raiding like rain in the moonlight feast But though a heart must love Shut my eyes and deafen my ears Fix my feet’s on rocks Which flood of fear, it can bear Rain thy peace oh gods of peace Teach thy tools oh! Thy heart And write with us oh! Thy will For there is where truth dwells