O soft embalmer of ye still midnight
Allow me thee to adown
Of any sort thou fancieth
Each holdeth its own fancy, I say
Yet the pleasure we partake in
Was caus'd by the fang'd grin
Save!, do I for him anger hold?
Nay, I knew I was fey!

Had I what it taketh, I would do
I sense, I cannot sense
I am, yet! I am not
Once I kiss'd the image
Of the Seven Angels of Death...

Yet as thou so didst
On my lips a kiss landéd
And with the shadows blendéd
The tendermost silken mourn
In which the light hidden is
Yon Hell's brazen doors
Wrothfully it trieth to push

Then, lo! the Bleak Death
Serpent-like 'twixt the b______ crept
Hush'd with a gasp of life's breath
Together red tears we wept, in vain
And pass'd the procession of dancers dead
As in darkness were we lock'd in wed
I kiss'd the Seven Angels of Death

And Hell open'd its doors
Yet what was 'fore my eyes
But if not the brightest light

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