Deluder's Delusion

Make haste! Make haste!

Naught a minute to waste!

Shovel those bittersweet coals!

They be warrant for your souls!

 

See now! Harken titian fields!

The laborious aria it yields;

Of rancid sweat and bloody tears,

To condemn tables of miserly meals!

 

-Spake my spirit-

 

Thou art of age, twenty-six!

Drunk by thine mother’s bosom,

Thou hast clasped thine lips!

Varlet! Thou most loathsome!

 

Thou art treacherous scribe!

Merchant of baneful plums;

Thou lyest, borne of foul tribe!

Bard of swindling poems!

 

-I contended myne voice-

 

‘Tis true yet ‘tis naught;

Ye sought well to ravage,

Of myne repreve from the noose!

I canst no more hide and rummage;

 

For bittersweet coals charred my bliss;

And miserly meals churned my shame;

Fiendish words to the earth, my kiss;

Grisly tears suckle my blame;

 

Make haste! Make haste!

I shall soon come undone;

For naught a minute I wasted,

Dashing my foot against a stone;

 

Alas! Alas!

Of a much modest price!

Be myne burial,

Than of my sombre life!

 

 

-Leah