Oh the morning that shines anew
behind the darkened lane
The sunlight that filters through the fog
beneath the silver stream
I drew away the dewdrops
amid the mist of dreams
And made the crown so fine
a halo of moonbeams
Used the magic, ancient than time
to create the mystic sea
a worthy gift to my love, a worthy gift to thee
Ah! music….a symphony, the harp
Oh sweet sweet angel’s song
Feather light carved cupid bow-arrow
I aimed thy heart and shot
Off thou lay in throne of thine
of gold beams, a sunglow peacock
The pointed piece lay on thou hands
Thy heart remained unattached, on lock
Here, in me, love blossoms
amid the thrones of thorn
But thou heart has not yet been reborn…….not yet
been reborn.
I bleed on it, I cry for thee
I’m resigned to these demonic urges
Oh! Satan Satan, I bow to thee
My love to you has altered me
The light fails to soothe me
I am no sage…. No…. now I’m no sage.
