Attraverso il portico della mia casa elegante inseguite con le vostre furie selvaggie, disturbando i garlands di frutta e dei lutes e dei peacocks fabulous, rending la rete di tutto il decoro che tiene il whirlwind indietro. Ora, l'ordine ricco delle pareti caduto; i rooks croak sopra la rovina terribile; alla luce brulla del vostro occhio stormy, la magia prende il volo come una strega daunted, rinunciante il castello quando i giorni reali si rompono.
Le colonne fratturate incorniciano i prospetti della roccia; Mentre vi levate in piedi eroici in cappotto ed in legame, mi siedo composto in tunic grecian e nel psyche-nodo, sradicati al vostro sguardo nero, nel gioco girato tragico: Quale tale ruggine modellata sulla nostra propriet in fallimento, che cerimonia delle parole pu rattoppare il havoc?
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