An Ode To the Angel of Death
What manner of an angel be
my love, who standeth here?
Such beauty did I never see
in any Earthly year.
What mighty magic has she cast
to make me love her so,
that if I should for aeons last,
still with her I shall go?
What wonders lay beneath her breast
and weigh my heart like stones?
These eyes of mine did never rest
on any sweeter bones.
What better end have I to meet
than ‘fore my Lady break me
to lift me in her embrace sweet
and to her darkness take me?
Copyright © Robert Valentine | Year Posted 2010
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment