All scourges passed The world shrinks Saddened by eloquence pure Taketh thy verse We shall suffer acutely O' great lake of tears A solemn mass sung From olden catacombs Pale men lie wreathed In gloom Frolicking wings of monarch Doth crumble and morning dew shall Too oft I weep For our discord begotten As every last eye will close A shoreline haven succumbed To mirage inevitable Embrace within our weakened arms Shan't we view our fallen oaks Timid fawns Shed sullen tears I, a worn man Forced to submit Stumble Manifest grief Therefore, I withdraw my pen in nocturnal repose