time is an abyss profound as a thousand nights i sojourn my haste i make respites for what availeith this eager pace one step more naught to face save the heirloom fatal kiss i rave no more gainst time or fate for lo my own shall ne er come to me yet who doth my future narrate dim the lights i cannot see bring forth ye shadow with whom danceth thou time hath stopp d yet for others ne er halteth for me the pages of life do not turn lo on the funeral pyre they burn the oh so eathing velvet darkness they fear heed wherefore delve a burrow when in my arms o come here i say elsewhither is naught but sorrow for what deemest thou so dear thy blood when through my veins it could flood bide to merry make me unaptly and hence grant me the fell gift the gift of passing on the dark trick tis such a brazen act of erotic trifle for thee yet for me grandly thrift o such an innocence depriv d so hastily alas for what deemest thou so dear thy blood when through my veins it will flood 