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Rhyme
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When empty bubbles of stillness brimmed the place
Upon an emerald carpet of meads, she genuflected with gathered grace
Of languished bones and reverence plucked from nunhood hearts.
Mighty potentate dear, the wonted beseeching starts.
Oh! May the taper of thought illuminate the native firmament of youth
With eternal beams of clemency and immaculate truth.
May remnants of vernal days, emulate the unsullied string of murmuring Rhine
Which lofty silvern moon looks through in her decline.
Oh! Bestow sleets of diamond, shower the withering faith abundantly
My genuine night in ancient might and atrous raven majesty
Never admits a lucid ray of Cynthia's placid light
Nor scarce a pristine spark from virgin Lilies white.
In festal exuberant mirth, flowers rich in prime often steep
Banished from fervid fancies, my dreams slither from sepulchres of sleep
Dreary like spectres embroidered in soot-black cloak
Yoked with throat gripping images of woe, clawed than forked foot of hawk.
Oh! Grand down the enormous wing of unyielding throes
Intercepting the sun's beam of daffodil gold to disclose
The jolly throng of seeming friends in vizard faction knit.
Raze with fanged rust, the malignant swarm of antagonizing foes assailing in skits.
Once these cheeks flushed bright than crimson blossoms glow
Alack! Over those, briny springs of melancholy flow
From heights of penitence, from depth of pain suppressed
Creeping like subtle snakes from hollowed cavities of earth's breast.
Since wisdom hoarded in writhled lores and hoary sage
Never fades, stroked by boundless surges of age.
Since the raging cold of thawed snow, is kindly kept in summer's temperate heat
The severe taste of my delayed revenge, is neither lost in circles of time nor deplete.
Oh! Divine celestial quill, in rich characters of light, write…
Before the blind sentence groped to distinct light
Restless billows of black-faced misery, wretched the brass-chain of words away
Her thoughts bitter and sweet mingled without delay.
Through hollowed glades redoubled echoes nimbly fly
Plumed like pinions in boundless circles scan the scaled sky
Bearing the closing effort of sacred orisons, sealed with despairing cry
Imploring the sovereign sublime, perched upon Elysium throne
Oh! “Let go the string, before this withering faith is tempest blown."
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