|
The Lover Speaks to the Hearers of His Songs in Coming Days
| O women, kneeling by your altar-rails long hence, | | When songs I wove for my beloved hide the prayer, | | And smoke from this dead heart drifts through the violet air | | And covers away the smoke of myrrh and
frankincense; | | Bend down and pray for all that sin I wove in song, | | Till the Attorney for Lost Souls cry her
sweet cry, | | And call to my beloved and me: ‘No longer fly | | Amid the hovering, piteous, penitential throng.’ |
|
 |
|
By PanEris
using Melati.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Copyright: All texts on Bibliomania are © Bibliomania.com Ltd,
and may not be reproduced in any form without our written permission.
See our FAQ for more details.
|
| |