Thunderstorm In Venice
A testament to human will it stands,
Fair maiden of all the foreign lands.
An equilibrium between Earth and sea,
Maintained in grotesque ecstasy.
The gentle lap of waves doth speak,
Of times ere now, of bygone weeks,
Of countless Romeos in ages old,
Emotions worth their weight in gold,
And whispers in the dark I hear,
Every time I saunter near
The unlit alleys and ragged walls,
Creaking bridges and eerie halls,
Fair Venice why art thou so dark?
Distress'd art thou, thy face is mark'd--
With horror; in words which no man dare etch,
Captured forever in this gloomy sketch.
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