Sweetly sighing sounds of sin

On a Sunday afternoon

It’s a fleeting lapse, le petit mort

Such a fine and fearless feeling

Dropping my beautiful dewy days in

Dedication to my own delight

Rowing a righting ship of richly

Star-redded rubies on fire

Merry laughter ringing out

Meddles and masquerades

In truth, I am my own best lover

My heart unwound but shy

A secret part of my soul unlocked

A drop of blood from the broken-hearted

Shudders for the dearly departed

I’ve been before to this valleyed, fertile land

Untouched redded rubies guarded from forty thieves

And I’ll bless my own rains tonight