I am the love of Mephistopheles,
Housed among this copse of trees.
Darkling I trip through the field of my dreams,
Light in the deep dark of my morning.
I am the Queen of Dark Getting –
Harvest, Harvest time is here
And I shall reap a thousand posies for my lover’s hair.
– And he shall know them by their smell –
I am the Mistress Venturer
And I shall lead him by the hand,
To the high tree where we make our haven,
In this our black vault land.
I am the Lady of his bidding
And of me he bids a song.
I sing to shroud us in this moment
All the long night long.
I am his. No more.
Unseeingly we see each other.
My breath upon his face
Paints the image of my lover.
I am his Spurned,
For I did look upon the first of dawn
And in that passing vision made
The very sun that he did scorn.
I was…am myself no more.
Hurled of my love to the hoarfrost floor.
– And what of my dreams? –
They lie with those without,
Waiting, baying at the door.