Intrigue

Thou art my love And thou art the peace of sundown When the blue shadows soothe And the grasses and the leaves sleep To the song of the little brooks Woe is me. Thou art my love, And thou art a storm That breaks black in the sky And, sweeping headlong, Drenches and cowers each tree And at the panting end There is no sound Save the melancholy cry of a single owl Woe is me! Thou art my love And thou art a tinsel thing And I in my play Broke thee easily And from the little fragments Arose my long sorrow Woe is me. Thou art my love And thou art a weary violet Drooping from sun-caresses. Answering mine carelessly Woe is me. Thou art my love And thou art the ashes of other men's love And I bury my face in these ashes And I love them Woe is me. Thou art my love And thou art the beard On another man's face Woe is me. Thou art my love And thou art a temple And in this temple is an altar And on this altar is my heart Woe is me. Thou art my love And thou art a wretch. Let these sacred love-lies choke thee For I am come to where I know your lies as truth And your truth as lies Woe is me. Thou art my love And thou art a priestess And in thy hand is a bloody dagger And my doom comes to me surely Woe is me. Thou art my love And thou art a skull with ruby eyes And I love thee Woe is me. Thou art my love And I doubt thee And if peace came with my murder Then would I murder Woe is me. Thou art my love And thou art death Aye, thou art death Black and yet black But I love thee I love thee Woe, welcome woe, to me.