Venus and Crepuscule

“The thick baffling blades of false world customs rip off my views and ideas,like breaking every string of my aesthetic thoughts in disdain and jealousy;pain pain enough your tigrine roars before I die.”

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“Ah! listen the song of storm from my disturbed soul;and it scatters flower buds into its lonely halls;like every pain needs a dirge,with wreaths that awful the world framed one for me,and gives the time it calls.”

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“The early dew-falls that did a pristine coating, over the woods with its finest transparency, glazed as like its wet white-glassy earrings that hung on the ears of wild flowers—unlatched my fancy.”

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“Ha! spring arrived on her sweet scented palanquin,carried by the spirited Zephyrus and his coir with their murmuring music undulated in its own softness and fondled the leaves to astir.”

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“The lilac moon came high an altitude from mine to clasp its beauty,yet next to my bosom hide, lies she,like ten thousand silver moons illumine;and her soul’s music showered words as she spoke wide.”

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“Sweet death as like sleep, when it calls for a journey on its elated wings of oblivion;an oft and quiet,an escape from these worlds;that convey a harmless comfort with its concord dreams aloft.”

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“So what;if these old leaves are sick and dead; aye their time to go—for fresh ones to come with forest fragrance and shades new and broad;as we obey nature’s laws, thoughts and time.”

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