Beneath Thy Willow

Blessed thy soul! ---Oh dear, sweet Mary

Aged but, yet, so far young carried by divine beauty

Thy poor life lived long in profound loneliness

Only of troubled pasts fills that emptiness

Curse, to her it may be for had she been widowed

Taken from thee who lies beneath thy willow

His love thou felt no more

But of thorns ---of boundless misery

Crowns thy hell-captured core

Consumed by immeasurable pain

That not even the immortals can bare

Thy hands reek of blood and wine to stain

Driven by self-hatred and despair

Not one beau did see the hidden insanity

Those who came to woo did greet the face of adversity

No angels nor demons dare to cease

Thy appalling skill of expertise

So, darkness appear through hooded eyes

As poison’s fed with wounding lies

I, like those who seek thy love

Found none of such but Heaven’s doves

At everlasting peace, I rest with soil for a pillow

Accompanying thy beloved beneath the willow