On Whom the Moon Doth Shine

Oh, soft embalmer of ye still midnight
Allow me thee to adown
Of any sort thou fancieth
Each holdeth its own fancy, I say

Yet the pleasure we partake in
Was caused by the fanged grin
Save, do I for him anger hold?
Nay, I knew I was fey

Had I what it taketh, I would do
I sense, I cannot sense
I am, yet I am not
Once I kissed the image of the seven angels of death

Yet as thou so didst
On my lips, a kiss landed
And with the shadows blended
The tender most silken mourn
In which the light hidden is
Yon hell's brazen doors
Wrothfully it trieth to push

Then lo, the bleak death
Serpent-like 'twixt the breasts crept

Hushed with a gasp of life's breath
Together, red tears we wept in vain (together, red tears they wept)
And passed the procession of dancers dead
As in darkness were we locked in wed

I kissed the seven angels of death (and hell opened its doors)
Yet what was 'fore my eyes but if not the brightest light (but if not)
But if not the brightest light