Cheerful Dirge

Hap mirthfulness! – Oh! joy of grand riddance;
Undress me my hauberk! – the wyern hath errant’d.

Ire of yore – bard of e’eryears –
I deem the brood hath wan’d –

Fro the chasm of the bosom, bale a hand back.
Hark! my dove – henceforth I bulwark thee! –
Teathers of swans in my pillow – I cede my heart.
Make haste! – I pray – respond my plea!

Lo! – a sire of great awe – a knight of
many battles!

…And of kinsmen weeping for the slain!
Please! – heed my words;
In thy sorrow I will kiss thy tears –
In thy bliss I will take thee by thy hand –
The sapor of grapes thou shalt savor –
And harken the nighttingale sing oh so blithely!

On his knees… A plea to harvest
No heed for the thorns you count!
Wherefore vow me?
Wherefor this gilded proffer?
Wherefore not pay court to a maid more
fair? –
Morn of a joyous day! Hower ‘twixt
Fertile desert! Cheerful dirge!
Misery me not! – man nor beast; envy
Lest’tis an act of wont!
Many are the drapes that my past bury –
Ineffable feeling indulgeth in battles!

Tisn’t what thou vambrace’st thy words with!!;
I bethink dotingly only thy weal –
Forgive me for deeming thee direfully –
Therein abdiding with thee
Yet I was a trifle daunt’d.
Is for me the grandest boon!

Posted in Theatre Of Tragedy.