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Tirade of a Venetian Ghost (Free verse) by MacFrantic
What might!
And what fallow hallowed heart!
Whyst a mangled mane
In willow branches soft remains?
Come breadth!
Come world and sun!
Bold be thy brute
And bareth be thy fruit!
Lion dispareth not
Or let thy matter rot
In the sparing white edge of mine eye
What for that morning?
What for this cursed night?
Vanity hath passed over thee
In changed light
Whilst him with black hand turns thee right
Oh coward coil!
'reft of limbs thy soul
Shoul climb into an e'er blowing brain
And folly find in the eternal musician
It is thy stake!
Hath in thee much to present?
Forswear mine countenance forsworn
For forgiveness of thy lingering!
Thou wanting of bars
But stayst the prisoner
Piteous overture comforts mine ear
Conceive thy pain!
This sanguine wine 'tis thine to stain
Flash death bright smiles
I must fortune's favor find!
Thy blustering is thy lasting effect
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