Ode to Death
Silence echoes throughout the land
Thro’ fields of endless rolling fog -
Billowing robes in winter’s breeze,
The Specter rises from the shades.
A twang of eerie music plays
As if from harp Aeolian,
Discordant tremor on the wind -
A floating Ghostly image comes
Beneath its hood, upon the brow
Can be glimpsed a golden crown, A
Scent which pervades the evening air
A wreath of eager forsynthia
Through Owl sockets doth it look
An awful piercing hollowed gaze,
Inside the vacant, shadows swirl -
lacking substance, only smoke
How like Porphyria's Lover
Its lithe and gentle hands extend,
Bestowing forth, with n’er a word -
An eternal slumber land
Kazaromoc's Compendium: (Ode to Death)
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