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Sing to me a romance, sire |
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That splendid trod the starry roads. |
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All ye dust-strewn travellers, hasten |
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To the hearthside! |
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What seest thou, wayfarer, |
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Upon thy journey to a citrine sun? |
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Caves of candlelight with amethyst imbued, |
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Opal skulls of opal creatures decorating tombs! |
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Woods of columned water supporting ceilings breathing blue, |
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Seascapes fill'd with poison, lonely, waiting for the few |
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Final scarlet denizens to march into the scorching fumes! |
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Stalks of lapis lazuli groaning against a tired breeze, |
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Sparkling in the quaint moonlight, and owls' eyes in sapphire trees, |
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Hooting to one year of moons that hang on petals in the air! |
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Growing ghosts in silver pots upon a silent windowsill, |
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Built into the side of nothing built into a nothing hill! |
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A cage that housed a nightingale was hung upon a shepherd's crook; |
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He lightly stepp'd across the tide, his statuary effervescing. |
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Boughs dipped their lovely heads into the lake of one-thousand tiers |
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To admire an |
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Absinthe floodgate, and a piquant gallery. |
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Morning, and the dreamers fade |
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Like lovers' gazes past their hour. |
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Cannot sunrise wait forever |
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For its time? |
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Farewell, starry wayfarer, |
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I'll bless your name when |
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I dream of you. |
