In sprightly night-tide, a chill one did loom.
Neath glass and stars' eye, an Innocent's room.
And fashioned church-like, the whole of the place;
A fountainous shrine for beauty and grace.
'Twas rumour'd, I know, of a maiden so fair -
That love but did show in the curls of her hair.
No princess nor sir'n could e'er hope to seek -
Such pallor of skin, or rosier cheek.
The clock, when chimed morn', yon child did rise.
Lace bonnet was worn, eyes wide in surprise.
Pure moonlight revealed her angelic mold.
While darkness did shield her eyes from its hold.
With cross at its post, and good book outside -
She tried her utmost, yet failed and so cried.
A raven observed, unknowing as she;
Of the daemon's kiss 'neath collar's debris.
Rife somber rose stains were left while she slept.
New claret tears' rains fell down as she wept.
Inhuman, this maiden, ethereal and dark -
This dream I've stir'n from, surely's left its mark.