Symphonia Mortis
Dear Olivia,
In the meadow’d yards of
Cherish’d eternity,
The pines softly wisp away
Unto the fading breeze,
Awaiting humm’d melodies
Seldom heard in grace.
In the mellow’d streets of
Tarnish’d mortality,
Your letters rest in stillness
Upon the evening’s florid dream,
Where bloodied angels sing:
‘My god has forsaken me!
My god has forsaken me.’
You must be lonely dear, –
I must be foolish too, –
Life is tender,
But death is ever sweeter
Upon a passing moon.
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