To the Gods, we have been
foreboding, and fill'd with sin,
to the Devil, Sebastian,
who had killed all thy kin!
Alone, (when Heaven was blue),
of the Devil, and you,
when Abaddos was firey too,
with a daemon in my view.
And the Gods' love, if it be,
true to you, true to me,
it shall ever bless to thee,
no sin, no horror, no blasphemy!
Dreamers have not seen; ---
and no daemon could ever bring
the Gods, to a final spring,
All, to the seraph's dying wing.
--- That no angel up above,
would be as supernal as a blessed dove;
to all of the Gods' love,
or the poem that I write of!
So come with me, to beautiful Lenore,
a land where lucid-dreams are born,
and where the daemons have no scorn,
with seraphs, or the unicorn.
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