THE DAMNED

 

The mists of the castle ran through the hall.

A grisly host

Of many a fine ghost

Danced in their shrouds upon the floor of the ball.

 

From the peeling ceiling many chandeliers swayed,

Cobwebbed, timeless, bejeweled with gems of jade,

As the wraiths in their grimy garments made

Vows of dreadful appropriations…

These tomb-loving apparitions,

Whisper of murder, envy, lust and vengeance

On the vine-clad terrace, in the gloom of the shade.

The vassal at the entrance

Welcomes each new comer with a candle in his ethereal hand.

They glide like fog from the meadow of their graves

And they join the ball in the dancehall, eternal, old and grand.

And as midnight turns to dawn, the pouring rain laves

Every broken tower and ashy pane

In the castle filled with lovers, in the bastion by the lane…….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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