We who run
From the presence of the sun
By the voided bitter gleam
Chasing darkness like a dream
All with weary tasks fordone
īscape the serpents tounge
To catch the shadow,
Let the substance fall
Like the sun's bright beam
Entagled in melancholy
Entagled in the black roars
Of an image's stream
Put the wretch that lies in woe
In rememberance of a shroud
The match agreed
With flames admired
Now I find hideousness in mind
Shall I disturb this hallowed house?
I have been sent with dusk before
To sweep the dust behind the door
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