Sweet drops of blissful memoirs washed across a sinister face
Eyes no longer serene; beauty had not even an iniquitous grace
They had longed for the fallen in the grim light of the night
Only for a bitter taste to smother their saviour in fright.
Ah! But the flames stole thy virginal bloom
And thy beauty sent you to a mighty doom
Dear seraphic Persephone!
What good may offer you his throne?
Woe is you and woe is the tangerine twilight
Whose beauty died at its most splendid height
Tragic passions have always ended in wicked plays
A single seed to count thine last moments in winter days.
Lust is no more sinful than a glance
Share a heart for the entwining romance
Oh gracious blood, this kingdom is not worth
Your beauty to adorn not even Charon's boat.
