Me thinks that thou who passeth in the night
More oft than not is hidden in the mist.
Thou filleth up my life with pain and fright –
I’m torn asunder at each evil tryst.
That fear fraught night whose hours hold my fate
Surroundeth with a blackness naught can rend.
What once bloomed love now ferments only hate,
And what was deemed eternal now must end.
And then an eerie glow looms through the haze,
The bodkin that I bear leaps to my hand.
She fixes me with haunting baleful gaze
That burns my flesh and leaves its searing brand.
My quand’ry flees with bodkin’s gleaming blade,
No longer must I live this cru’l charade.
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