'Tis long, oh dear, has it been time since beheld I thy face to the last -
why, hath thee been lonely just as me?
'Tis from not the concrete of my acquaintance that speak I tonight, this cement not mine, nor this ambience am I still a guest to. Oh dear, is the night longer than would I have liked to have it, long enough is it to irk the loneliness in me - alas! am I lonely? Dreary is the night just as well now, know I not how will the morrow begin.
But I hath seen it - the sallow, the auburn, the tangerine before turns it quite cerise for the day, and slowly and slowly meld all the colors to become one.
Aha, thou see, these hues in azure, turquoise, cerulean and livid blue, all I name to ponder over, but anon am I blinded with black ticks of clock heard from the sky above - tick, tick, tick, and once more, twice demanded, and a third encore.
What do I see now my love, oh my love?
What this festoon of leaves in cursive curlicue - such verdure green they wear in the black of the night? How now! Oh my God! how now! Do I not see the stars shine;
What quondam query is my rotunda lammed by - alas! no mercy does it show!
A thwack, a blow, a punch from the left and a slap on my visage - how must the moon hate me!
This shine of light so visible atop...