With what crimson shades of harrowing ache,
Thou painteth my withered soul? 'Tis all I can take.
No longer shall mine shattered heart sing,
For thy wretched tongue did wantonly sting.
Thy heavenly sight, once I prayed for in earnest,
Now it doth naught but blind these eyes in jest.
O' temptress unjust, why dost thou prey on me so,
When in truths unsaid, 'tis I alone who ne'er let thee go.
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