Modern Romanticism

In our kingdom, where we should have met,

There are cruel faces, that have surely wept

Many tears into the Earth.

My love has given new birth

To the ways of matrimony,

In songs, like Heaven from her lips.

Her beauty sunders across oceans,

Thunders across the skies.

She lets down her hair to the two pillars, as legs,

Ancient in their image.

Her breath washes the clouds to their whiteness,

As her countenance startles the moon's many faces.

There was hollowness in my heart,

There was sickness in my limbs,

As there is now a happiness upon my lips,

With a future staring from my eyes.

I love nothing of myself,

While holding everything of her

In a heart that could not start

Without the face, removed of its veil,

As I set sail

Upon her ivory in the dark.