In the dank and death chilled night satan nears to claim his right. Upon her maidens breast he lays, the anguished hand of love’s dismay. And in the weak set of the moon broods a devil of cruellest gloom, to capture her from river’s sand bare her soul away from land. The empty depths of Silver River quietly breaks over finger’s quiver. The ragged figure – her lover scorned sheds bloody tears from rose’s thorn. Her whispers filter past the skies, the stars will wink within her sigh, and devil’s will – she denies, to etch the light where none was nigh And love will wander ‘neath the stars to feel her breath – to mend his scars, to heal love’s victim – “O thy mind be true to what your heart defined”