A Fair Maiden, Engaged

Throw roses of thorns for here comes the corpse bride!

Lace-like cobwebs pattern her gown.

At a low ebb, she leaves the town.

Fading rainbows she always gazed.

Her lachrymose the sunny days.

 

The sound of knells appears archly.

Grove of thistles her sanctuary.

The ghosts commence a night of sighs.

Grave-like silence her lips and eyes.

 

Brilliant and cold as the moonlight,

She walks so bold without her plight.

Perky gothic, she smiles with gloom.

As a cynic, she hopes for doom.

 

Bloody poppies crown her ringlets.

Winds of caprice compel their frets.

A butterfly hangs on her ear.

It will not die like her proud fear.

 

Her cursed ring gleams through shadows.

Spread out the wings of dread and woe.

The sepulchral beauty now sobs

On black myrtles, and haunts her love.

 

Her ashen face beneath the veil,

Her legs of grace, her hands so frail,

Sharp collar bones, her mauve-streaked neck,

She shows alone at call and beck.

 

Ululation her hysteria

From dark passion for macabre.

She will not tell; she will not rest.

Her wedding bells toll in the mist.