Of Queens And Pain
The sorrow and pitch
of the howling bale
Tears my soul apart
As I whisper to myself
under the hood,
the midnight’s veil:
O, Queen of love
Queen of pleasure
My kingdom offered
and your King in measure
And with grace such
Beneath the white moon that bends
my sorrows and filled misery
A heart, bleeding, in ruins
I beg, fancy these words
echoed from my welling heart
Within the white that wends
Weaved from my soul and strewn
and with bared countenancy
with love and grace, eternally
Written By: Maxime S. Barthe
